When I was growing up, we went to visit my maternal grandmother in St Pete, Florida at least once a year. She was a wonder, a hard-working woman who only had a second grade education, but had beautiful handwriting and was a voracious reader. She never drove a car, walking or taking the city bus all over the city.
On her meager income from working in a cafeteria, she bought a little frame house. I loved her, her small house, and sitting on the front porch in the evening. There is where I had my very first tastes of cheesecake and iced coffee.
She had no phone or air conditioning, and just one floor fan that she gave me when I married.. When it rained, it cooled things off, but the TIN ROOF made her small abode a castle. The rain beating upon it made the most wonderful music, a sort of lullaby. I can almost hear it when I close my eyes and go back in time. Oh, how sweet it was and how precious the memories are to this day.
