During the pandemic, I wrote to my nearly 100 employees five nights a week for 18 months—a laboriously typed email, complete with a “Photo of the Day.” I made three promises: no one would lose their job, we would make money and give raises, and we would have fun without fear, despite Oregon’s draconian rules.
Jody tells the story of her Grandkids
Since sharing my life was important—and because it’s hard to be funny and uplifting when you can neither type nor spell—I turned to my three granddaughters, born in 2009, 2012, and 2015, for material. I referred to them as my grands—and soon, so did everyone else.
In Prineville, it seems girls come in threes. There are the Houston Sisters, now in their 80s—still beautiful, married with grandkids and great-grandkids, but forever known as the Houston Girls. There are countless other examples, and I suspect that instead of being called the Crawford Girls, my granddaughters may always be known simply as the grands.
Each of them has her own moxie, a huge dose of Grandma Anna’s grit, and a unique style. The only thing they share is their striking red hair—each in a different shade.
When I told them we were buying the property next door and that they would each own a part, I asked if they knew why I was including them in the purchase.
The oldest answered without hesitation: “So we’ll visit you in the nursing home.”
The middle grand screwed up her beautiful face, frowned, and said, “Grams, I think you might be feeling old and figure you’d better teach us how to run properties so we can take over one day.”
The youngest simply bounced on the bed and said, “I haven’t a clue!”
Three fine answers from three amazing Annas-in-training—maybe with a little bit of me in there, too!
Spanish 
English 