Cement Boy

Grandma Snyder was a spit fire and always had an answer for everything. She enjoyed her family and giving my sister and me what she would call her little lectures on her soap box.

Since I have lived in a city for most of my life after college, she would often refer to me as her “little cement boy.” She never could understand why someone would want to be in the city and walk on cement all the time. She often told me that I should take off my shoes and walk in some grass every once and awhile. At the same time, she always got a kick out of it when I would call her from a business trip in New York or just have a conversation while doing errands in Philadelphia. To keep her silent (which was never an easy thing to do), I once sent her an envelop of grass.

I am sure if Grandma was around today, she would shake her head at me and have some sort of comment regarding having a child in cement.