Grandma visits

I'm always mindful of Richard Nixon when talking about my mother. He stood at a press conference and with wife Pat standing by looking wretched said, "My mother was a saint." Poor Pat. Hard to compete with that.

Well, Grandma's not a saint, but she is the epitome of thrifty, cheerful, industriousness. Compared to Grandma, the rest of us are slugs and sourpusses. If I go a couple of hours without a thought of lying down or cranking about something, it's a miracle. Grandma is an inspiration to be a better person.

And the delight she takes in life is unworldly. Taking her home yesterday not a minute went by that she didn't chuckle or laugh about something. A cow. A herd of cows. A herd of sheep. A house. A hill. Curves in the road. Ups and downs in the road. Amazing. When I'm 87, it's gonna take a lot of Xanax to keep me cheerful.

Not that Mom can't test your limits. She is persistent and likes things her way. But cheerful all the while. Would that I was more like her.