“Grandma Lucille O'Shea Murray”

My grandma’s name was Lucile O’Shea Murry a society woman from upstate New York in a city called Rochester. She lived in an old four pillared mansion a half block off of Park Avenue. It was a classic Victorian with a grand foyer that had great sliding doors off each entrance to the a joining rooms, the living room with a large oil painting of my mother at age thirteen over the marble fireplace, and the dinning room which had hundred year old stain-glass windows. My grand father passed when I was five, so it was just grandma and me when I came for visits. My parents would put me on the plane by myself, and grandma would be waiting to pick me up when I landed. She used to call me the “Master of the House”. We used to take long walks together on Park Avenue, and she would tell me the ways of a gentleman, how to meet ladies, even down to how you shook their hand and inclined your head according to their position and marital status. I was privy to being treated in a way that children today never see unless they come from blue blood. Some of these days I spent with my grandma are the most memorable of my childhood. Though she has long passed what she taught me is still ingrained when I find myself in social circles. I miss you Grandma Murry; love John.

THOR