My grandmother, my maternal grandmother, was a devout Catholic, and a retired nurse. She was your stereotypical grandmother. Little, white haired, and as sweet as sugar. She made lots of good food, and she baked things that were out of this world. I have yet to eat a pie that holds a candle to hers. There have been close seconds, though. She even sewed a lot. Her favorite was needlework and doilies. I have some of her work hanging on my bedroom wall, in fact. She has since passed though.
My paternal grandmother, is still alive. She is a laugh and a half. She is a no nonsense, doesn't skirt around things, not afraid to get her fingers dirty type of grandmother. She used to teach in a one room school house, across the way from Grandpa's family farm. They married and had 6 kids, three of which were identical female triplets. She helped moved the family to Grandpa's family farm while 8 months pregnant with them. They were to term and weighed a healthy 5-6 pounds each. She and Grandpa are about 82 years old, with Grandma being a full month older than Grandpa and have spent 61 years of wedded bliss with each other.
The day the power of love overrules the love of power, the world will know peace.
― Mahatma Gandhi