One hundred

My wonderful Grandma Randolph would’ve turned 100 today. We would’ve had a paaar-taa-ay. It would’ve been at a nursing home, but hey, that wouldn’t have stopped us from celebrating the lady with gusto. Maybe a (vodka?) grapefruit juice cocktail, some salted watermelon with cottage cheese (the lady salted everything), a hefty amount of chocolate cake, some wild break dancing on the linoleum, latex glove chicken balloons. The works.


My grandma holding my mom.

My grandma fit the quintessential grandma mold perfectly. She was a little squishy around the edges, decorated with cute little trinkets that we loved to rearrange, filled bowls with Werther’s candies, kept After Eights “hidden” in a drawer, and took me (and sometimes my sister) to Furr’s cafeteria for the buffet line on our special overnight dates. There was usually a parade on television that we’d watch while she scrambled eggs, toasted bread and fried bacon for breakfast. I loved it all. She was a constant during my childhood and I treasured being with her.


Grandma’s girls. How cute are they?!

Grandma was born just prior to WWI and birthed her FULL TERM, BIG twin girls during WWII. I really wish we had pictures of her pregnant. She completed a degree in Home Economics prior to having her girls, which I’m guessing was quite helpful as she entered motherhood married to a vanilla salesman. They weren’t wealthy, but they got by, and both of their girls went to college. Even more importantly, the twins adored their parents. I’ve only heard kind words spoken.


Grandma holding me. The only time my grandpa saw me. But he’s looking away, so hopefully he didn’t miss it.

The end of grandma’s life wasn’t easy. Her husband died in 1977 after months living with very painful cancer. (He was really sick while my mom was pregnant with me and died shortly after my birth.) She eventually moved from Indianapolis to Colorado, living just ten minutes from my childhood home. As time passed, her cognition faded, as did her hearing. When I excitedly called her with fabulous news that we got a chocolate lab puppy, she said, “Oooh, I bet that will taste good.” She sure loved chocolate.


This is how she made me feel.

In her late 70s or early 80s she started falling a lot and getting hurt. When I was in early adolescence she had a grand mal seizure at a restaurant with my mom, sister and me. My sister and I were shuttled away from the commotion, having just witnessed our first seizure without knowing anything about them, and we huddled in a bathroom. My sister prayed. It was the first time I ever remember someone praying like that- fearfully begging God. I remember that stall as vividly as I remember our restaurant booth and the look on my mom’s face.

Grandma’s frequent falls were from seizures, which were from a brain tumor, and she eventually needed surgery to remove it. After months living at our house she was moved to a nursing home near my aunt’s house in Nebraska. The altitude was hard on her heart. She got a lot of love from my aunt and cousins, but was often hospitalized with pneumonia. She was graceful and peaceful through it all. I don’t once remember her complaining. Ever. I do remember her incessantly ringing a little bell when she needed help at our house. She’d ring, I’d go see what she needed, and she’d often not know why she had called. But she was so sweet about it all, not at all demanding, that I’d just smile. Sometimes I’d snuggle in beside her. To see her and not smile was nearly impossible. I loved laying by her side in that bed, cozy and warm.


Even though she was alive, she couldn’t make it to our wedding. I love that she met him, though. Bonus: He can do a perfect impression of her.

Most of my memories of her are post-brain surgery, and I know she was dramatically different as a result, but man, she was darling. Towards the end of her life, when her language comprehension wasn’t stellar but her sweetness was at it’s height, you could tell her just about anything and she’d say, “Mmmm, yesssss. That’s nice.” Sometimes I wanted to say something like “Grandma, I drank a lot of beer and danced on tables” just to see if she’d say that same thing.

Man. She was so cute. The woman just radiated sweetness.

Like me, my sister adored her. Older than me, she holds even more memories and treasures of her. Grandma passed away in 2001, right about the time my sister found out she was pregnant. My niece Kayla was born on grandma’s birthday. How’s that for amazing? Makes me cry every time I think about it.

Happy 100th birthday, Grandma. You are dearly, dearly missed. And always will be.


Cuter than cute. In her late 80s, with a walker and her Halloween costume.

(And if you read this, miss Kayla Jane, happy birthday to you, dear girl. You are a light. I think you got a huge dose of grandma’s kindness in your heart. I am honored to share a little bit of Grandma Jane with you and be your fellow KJ. I love you.)


5 thoughts on “One hundred

  1. Angie Lai

    What a lovely tribute to your Grandma. It is so special to see all those amazing pictures! Next time I see Harry, I hope I remember to ask him to do his Grandma Jane impression.

  2. Anne Summers

    Oh, Kathleen! This is such a beautiful tribute! Wonderful memories to share with your children, nieces, and nephews, too! I remember her grace and love for people from my days in the Pi Phi house at Purdue. She and my mother were friends in the Pi Phi Mothers Club. They were both wonderful role models for us all. So gracious and loving in spite of growing up during the depression and World War II. And…from my Mother’s 60th High School reunion invitation, let us remember that they grew up: Before television, penicillin, polio shots, antibiotics, frisbees…before frozen food, nylon Xerox, Kinsey, credit cards, ballpoint pens. For them, a chip meant a piece of wood, hardware meant hardware, and soft wear wasn’t even a word. They were before commercial air travel, pantyhose, ice makers and dishwashers, clothes driers, freezers, electric blankets. Before men wore long hair and earrings and women wore tuxedos. Before plastics, hair dryers, and the 40-hr. work week and the minimum wage. When they were in school, pizzas, Cheerios, frozen orange juice, instant coffee and McDonald’s were unheard of. For them, grass was something you mowed, coke was something you drank, and pot was something you cooked in.

    These are just a few of the things from this reunion invite, so if you want a full copy, just let me know. It was a different world for them. One that is hard for us to imagine!

    Again, thank you for that beautiful memory of a very lovely lady, Kathleen!
    Anne Summers

    1. kathleenbeanblog Post author

      Anne, thank you so much for all those details. I didn’t realize your mom and Grandma were friends. You & mom have shared so much together- amazing. I’d love to hear more from the reunion invite. “Grass was something you mowed” cracked me up. Grandma knew what she was doing naming her daughter MJ, I swear 🙂


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