Her husband never recovered completely from grief over his first wife. He became stoic: most people feared him. He didn’t like a lot of laughter, could not abide music, would leave and go to the barn if anyone played the piano. Yet, he managed to hold on to his land during the depression and to send all his children to college. My grandmother told me she had to handle him like “a rotten silk handkerchief.” Still, she loved him. On his deathbed he called to her.

“Alma, kiss me,” he said. When she kissed him on the forehead, he said, “No, really kiss me.” She did, and he closed his eyes and died.

Once I was out in her front yard when it began to rain. I was probably around eight