When I'm old I shall wear purple.
I shall sit on the sidewalk and spit!
I shall pick flowers from other people's gardens.
When I'm old I shall wear purple.
That isn't the full or correct version of the poem, but it's the way my grandmother would recite it endlessly. Last June when I visited her in Halifax, her memory was getting so bad she would hardly have finished it when she would turn to me and ask, "do you know the poem . . ." and I would blow her away by reciting her version of it seamlessly. "How do you know that poem?" she would ask. She almost always wore purple, and though I never saw her spit, she could let out one heck of a belch for an elderly British lady. She could also trick people into bringing her more glasses of sherry than her medication would allow like nobodies business.
Today she passed away.
For Valerie Morrison, 1917-2007:
When I'm old I shall wear purple.
I shall sit on the sidewalk and spit!
I shall pick flowers from other people's gardens.
When I'm old I shall wear purple.
I shall sit on the sidewalk and spit!
I shall pick flowers from other people's gardens.
When I'm old I shall wear purple.
That isn't the full or correct version of the poem, but it's the way my grandmother would recite it endlessly. Last June when I visited her in Halifax, her memory was getting so bad she would hardly have finished it when she would turn to me and ask, "do you know the poem . . ." and I would blow her away by reciting her version of it seamlessly. "How do you know that poem?" she would ask. She almost always wore purple, and though I never saw her spit, she could let out one heck of a belch for an elderly British lady. She could also trick people into bringing her more glasses of sherry than her medication would allow like nobodies business.
Today she passed away.
For Valerie Morrison, 1917-2007:
When I'm old I shall wear purple.
I shall sit on the sidewalk and spit!
I shall pick flowers from other people's gardens.
When I'm old I shall wear purple.
5 comments:
sorry to hear about your grandma
she sounds like a really cool lady
i am glad to hear your clot thing is under control -- take good care of yourself
sorry i have not called yet
i miss you. )
h
Awwww... What are gramma's for if not drinking more than they are supposed to, telling goofy poems about geriatric rebellion and well, eventually moving on to the great beyond. I'm sure she knew how much you loved her!
May she rest in peace.. or at least in comfort with sufficient things to spit on!
Condolences, KT.
Hey Katie, I'm really sorry to hear this. :-( I'm thinking of you.
Post a Comment