My grandparent’s home didn’t have a computer; they weren’t around in those days, rather a piano was a fond source of entertainment. An old television was acquired in later years, but a tall standing radio unit that grandpa turned on for the Tiger baseball game each day took up residence in the front hallway.

My grandparents were retired by the time I came along and as a daily ritual grandpa took a walk down to the basement to check the coal bin. It wasn’t used in the summer, but he wanted a supply in case heat was needed. More often than not a fireplace supplied the warmth for an evening chill, and windows were opened daily for the fresh breeze to cool off the Michigan summer days.

Grandma was an early riser each morning and after doing a load of laundry and hanging it outside to dry on the lines, she would start breakfast. I don’t remember box cereal, rather oatmeal and eggs, toast or muffins and some meat and juice. A large dining room that had been used by my dad and his siblings for years, continued to serve my grandparents as well.

I don’t recall ever seeing grandma in anything but a nicely ironed dress, often with an apron and her black “granny” shoes. I don’t know how else to describe them, they were plump and fat with laces and looked terribly uncomfortable, but she said the doctor told her to wear them, and daily she did. She had another pair for Sundays. Her hair was always neat and orderly, and yet I don’t think she went to a hair dresser. She pinned it up and wore a net around it at home.

We washed and dried the dishes together and if I dropped a utensil she would tell me someone was coming to visit. It was an old saying; a knife meant a man was calling, a spoon meant a woman caller and a fork met a couple. So, I purposely dropped a knife, and she would smile at me and tell me someone special was coming to call. All day I’d look for him and when the young man bringing their groceries from the store showed up I thought it was magic!

It seemed like the mornings were always so busy and often a neighbor would stop in for a brief visit, but soon the noon whistle would blow and grandma got another meal ready. After folding the laundry and making preparations for the dinner meal we would go out on the porch swing and sit and talk. She would tell me about the days when my dad was growing up and then about her own life as a young girl. How much I enjoyed our talks and the stories grandma would share.

A fun time of entertainment was in the evening when grandma would sit up to the piano and play some special songs. Grandpa didn’t sing along, he smoked his pipe and just enjoyed her playing, but the songs she played weren’t part of the top ten hits that the radio stations played; they were older songs and fun songs. “Put on Your Old Gray Bonnet” and “When You and I Were Young Maggie” were two of my favorites.

I know kids today don’t have these experiences and I think it is a shame. In many cases children are being robbed of their childhood, and although technology is a wonderful world in progress, there is so much more that life has to offer. I can’t imagine having a cell phone chained to me and interrupting a conversation on the front porch with Grandma, because you can never replace a moment once it is gone. And I’m grateful those moments with my grandparents turned into a storehouse of memories for me, an avalanche consisting of sharing chores, making donuts, singing with grandma at the piano, old starched aprons, stories from a porch swing and those big black shoes.