This Norman Rockwell at right reminds me of my grandmother; we would visit her in Florida when I was a kid and she and my grandfather took such good care of us, delighting in our once-a-year visit.  They took us to Disneyworld the very first day it opened, showed me my first alligator, and spent long evenings with us watching fireflies and eating watermelon.

I have already veered off-topic for this "politics and humor" blog, putting both topics in the backseat, but that is the appropriate place for politics in all our lives, I feel; immediately secondary, when need be.  The problem is, we've become so polarized that sometimes we forget that real life is all around us, and much of the time has nothing to do with politics.

My grandmother holds on.  She is speaking in a whisper, and what she is saying is garbled.  She is at times convinced that there is a baby that needs her help, there in her room, and we now play along, and pretend to rescue him, and we have given her a teddy bear to hold, to stand in as this phantom boy.

Who is this baby - my dad, or his brother, or perhaps her little nephew, that died during the Depression of starvation?  Where is Grammy now, in this land where I can't reach her, so close and yet so far away?

Life is sometimes measured in breaths, in moments, in heartbeats.  Right now it is measured in fading hope and a dawning realization that she is moving on.  But I remember her love and care, on those Florida visits long ago.

P.S.  I mistakenly deleted several of your comments from my mailbox; please re-comment if you'd like. Thanks!