One of the greatest memories I have of my grandmother is clamming with her in Ocean City, Maryland when I was a young boy. She coordinated using a pontoon boat from her friend Norene, and took me out to the shallow, mucky, section on the bayside of the strand. As a young boy I didn’t know what was beneath the chocolate milk colored water, how deep it was, or what dangerous sea creatures lurked below. Grandma had a way of ‘jumping in both feet first’. Watching her do this, I was right behind her. She showed me how to dig into the muck with my feet until I found some clams. If I brought up a large one, she would make a big celebration as if it would feed the entire family. If I brought up a small one, she would lavish me with praise because the little ones tasted so much better. It didn’t occur to me then that she would strongly encourage me and shower me with praise no matter what I came up with. When I brought many up she would say, “it’s a nest!”, with her thick New York accent, acting like we won the jackpot. Those rich childhood experiences ended up being far more valuable than winning the jackpot lottery for me.
God broke the mold when he made my grandmother. I have never met a tougher woman who had such a warm, sensitive, loving heart. I am so grateful for the vivid memories I have of our time together. Things that would be seemingly inconsequential to an adult resulted in shaping my childhood memories in a wonderful way. She will be greatly missed.
