Dear Grandma, I remember visiting you in Irondequoit and having afternoon BBQ's. We would play croquet, light fireworks off in the concrete tub, or disappear into the backwoods for explorations of the hidden pond or the mysteries beyond. Then we would come back and help you make dinner before the long summer day ended with fireflies. When I got older, I always enjoyed our phone conversations, usually on a Saturday afternoon. I'd call, we'd discuss the weather, then maybe talk about my travels or your childhood for an hour. You'd finish with "Well, that is what is going on here", and we'd catch up again later. Grandma, you will be missed. The next time I have lettuce, I'll sprinkle a little sugar on top, but I don't think it will come close to what we ate from Grandpa's garden. see more