The following entry was written by Rbelle

I am writing this as I wait for my case to be called in a small town courthouse an hour from where I live. This town is an hour north of where I live, and yet I love when I have cases in this courthouse. My grandfather spent most of his life practicing law in this same small courthouse. Because he died when I was young, I still think of him as a giant of a man, in persona if not in stature, an attorney protecting the rights of the weak and the poor. Those are the stories that people remember, the ones that make a difference. As I sit on this cold, hard bench with my blackberry and my laptop, I think how he sat in this same spot with his briefcase and legal pad. He walked these same halls, paced outside the same jury room. While he was well respected and remembered as an upstanding attorney, my real memories of him are of the love and life that he shared with my grandmother.

As their story goes, they met while he was stationed in Alabama during World War II. They were both at a party at the Officers Club, and after they met their fate was sealed. I envision them as young people, attending parties, raising their three children, going to Carolina football games, spending summers at the beach. Even my
memories of them as grandparents are of a glamorous and exciting couple that loved their life. They were in supper clubs and garden clubs, Rotary club, Cotillion, and the list could go on forever. I remember spending the long summer days at their house, a wonderful break for me. At my house I had to share the spotlight with my
brother, and my parents were always minding my business. At their house I became a princess, tiara provided as soon as I placed a foot on their doorstep.

Every day at their house was an adventure waiting to happen. I spent the morning dressing up in my grandmothers formal evening gowns, wearing her jewelry, trying on her makeup. I still remember the scent of her perfume on her vanity. She would call me for lunch and she and I would have a "ladies lunch" of cucumber sandwiches and ginger ale in champagne glasses. They had an attic full of treasures collected throughout their life together. There was memorabilia from my grandfathers political career, his legal career, and their life together. I would gather items as I foraged through the boxes and then take them downstairs so that they could tell me the story behind whatever treasure I discovered. These stories are imprinted in my brain to tell my own children. They should know that their great-grandfather won a dollar off of President Ford when they played golf together! I once found a personalized license plate with a letter indicating that my grandmother was a founding member of our state's Commission on Women. When I inquired as to why she didn't put the plate on her car, she looked at me in horror. "Rangeley, I want you to always remember that we are NOT common women. We are spectacular women." Puzzled at her response, I looked again at the license plate to see what she meant. The abbreviation on the plate was Comm. on Women. She was right, there was nothing common about her. She raised three children, kept an impeccable home, and to this day still has friends far and wide. She traveled to exciting places, had four
grandchildren, and two adorable great grandchildren (if I do say so myself). She cooked fantastic meals while wearing high heels and her being done "just so."

As a new mom, I often look back on her life in amazement. How did she find the time to do all of the things that she did? Recently I asked her how she managed to maintain her sanity as well as a lifestyle so busy and she responded that she does not know how I do it. She raised her children in an easier time, in a small town with lots of friends. Her husbands work day ended at five, and there were no student loans, no credit card debt. She and my grandfather loved each other in an easy and settled way that spoke volumes to those around them. Her final thought on why their marriage worked so well was that they spent time together concentrating on each other, they
spent time with the family concentrating on family, and they spent time alone concentrating on themselves. "Bill played golf every Wednesday and Saturday. I had a babysitter and got my hair done or went to Garden Club."

While it saddens me that she is now wishing for the great beyond, that she is more excited about seeing my grandfather next than any of us, it speaks volumes about the life that they shared, the love that they had. At the end of every day she and my grandfather would sit side by side and drink a cocktail as they watched the news and
contemplated their day. I envision them together again one day; spending the day puttering around in the garden, and rocking together on the screen porch of heaven. As long as he still plays golf on Wednesday and Saturday, everything will be just fine.