The Acorn falls far from the tree

I am a city gal. A small city, but city never the less.

My people are farm people, ranch people, dairy people,salt of the earth, dirt digging, bootstrapping people.

I get nervous driving into suburbs and jumpy on country roads.

When I was in my early 20's I lived downtown, in the heart of the city.

It was a perfectly safe place, like even the worst parts of Portland are, but my extended family found it terrifying to visit me.
My grandfather came to my apartment twice, and each time he said

"they aint a cow for miles"

Which is a very big deal, when you are a retired dairyman, who probably has more cow friends, than human.

My grandmother was another story. She hated the farm, and packed up and moved herself and her two babies to the big city, nearly the instant my grandfather was drafted, and had set sail for the Pacific.
She sent him a letter stating her intentions to stay, imagine her saying something like this...

"Dear Chuck,
the children and I are in Portland, come here, if you want us
Love,
Evie"

The city she settled in is a suburb I fled from as a teen, but for a farm gal form Weezer, Idaho I am sure it felt very cosomopolitain. Having grown up in one of the most hick places on earth, I am sure she felt good to get away.

Despite the fact that my grandparents happened to live in a affluent suburb, about 20 minutes form downtown Portland, they maintained thier country ways, which included growing much of their own food, having a donkey, chickens, geese, a pony for moi, and rabbits, hanging out their clothing to dry, recycling what would be called "gray water" today, and having a little red barn on the property.
Because my parents were teens, and because my grandparents were big hearted, they helped a lot in my upbringing. Provided childcare, and parenting and a love for homemade biscuts.

I miss my grandmother a lot, and since she is so much a part of my story, I imagine I will be writing about her often here.