On of my earliest memories involves walking around a very big store, with very wide aisles and white linoleum tiling. I am not sure of my age or location, but I must have been rather small because I remember the floor better than anything else. Small people are closer to the floor. I was with my grandmothers. Yep, that is right, plural, grandmotherS. I was with my Grandma Esau and my Great-Grandma Freckles. Freckles was not her real name. Her
real name was Anice Ida Leach. But I wouldn't know this for several more years because I was small and names and relationships are kinda vague and smoonched together. What I knew was that Grandma Freckles looked like she had a lot of Freckles, so that's what I called her. Grandpa Freckles got the name just cuz he was married to Grandma Freckles. It made sense at the time. Grandpa Freckles used to pull quarters out of my ears and made coffee so strong that it would make your hair fall out. I didn't know the part about the coffee until much later, either. So, me and the grandmas in a store. I don't know exactly where we were or what our purpose was, although I imagine we were grocery shopping Albion the "big" town (population approximately 1,000) near our "little" town of Petersburg (population 283).
What is important though, is that I walked out of that store with a little cactus plant all my own. It was the kind that has a green trunk and then a super florescent pink round bit grafted to the top. I don't know what brought about this gift. My family never had much money and I didn't have the kind of grandparents that expressed love by buying me things. I certainly didn't ask, that's not how the world worked for me. Why it was decided I must have a cactus, I will never know. However, it was love at first sight, I believe. I can't be sure because as I mentioned, I was quite small. But, I have cacti in my home now and more at my office. I often experience the following scenario with clients in my office:
"Are these rea--ouch! They are real!" It is a good measure of impulse control, "can you resist touching the cactus to see if it is real long enough for your therapist to give a response?" There is never a time that I haven't owned a cactus of some sort. I even grew some from seed, once. They are a constant for me. I never thought about it much until recently, though. I happened to mention, in passing to my dad, that I really liked grasses and cacti. I appreciate flowers and love to have them growing around my home but I don't typically make a bee line for the flowers at the garden section of home stores. I go for the the cacti or grasses.
My dad replied "Hmm, I bet that is because of your grandmas in Nebraska." My dad can be kind of oblivious to things, mostly minor, like the birthdays of his children, but he got this one right. I think I have always had cacti around as a way to remain connected to my grandmas, even though I lived half the continent away from them most of my life, and especially now that Grandma Freckles has passed away. I remain connected with them by sharing a love for pokie, spiny, awkward plant. There is a beauty to them as well, the variations in color, shape & spines, but you have to have an appreciate for unusual beauty. And when the do flower, it warrants a full blown celebration. Other plants are like girls from the wrong side of the tracks, they give it up easily. They flower all over the place without anyone even half-trying. If you see a cactus blooming and you are not in the desert, you know that there was either the perfect alignment of the stars or the person growing the cactus was very attentive, meeting it's every need, like pampered royalty. I find them more beautiful for it and I appreciate that I learned to love something not commonly considered beautiful. That is very likely the true gift of the grandmothers. And yes, the grandmas had blooming cacti in Nebraska.
"Are these rea--ouch! They are real!" It is a good measure of impulse control, "can you resist touching the cactus to see if it is real long enough for your therapist to give a response?" There is never a time that I haven't owned a cactus of some sort. I even grew some from seed, once. They are a constant for me. I never thought about it much until recently, though. I happened to mention, in passing to my dad, that I really liked grasses and cacti. I appreciate flowers and love to have them growing around my home but I don't typically make a bee line for the flowers at the garden section of home stores. I go for the the cacti or grasses. 
My dad replied "Hmm, I bet that is because of your grandmas in Nebraska." My dad can be kind of oblivious to things, mostly minor, like the birthdays of his children, but he got this one right. I think I have always had cacti around as a way to remain connected to my grandmas, even though I lived half the continent away from them most of my life, and especially now that Grandma Freckles has passed away. I remain connected with them by sharing a love for pokie, spiny, awkward plant. There is a beauty to them as well, the variations in color, shape & spines, but you have to have an appreciate for unusual beauty. And when the do flower, it warrants a full blown celebration. Other plants are like girls from the wrong side of the tracks, they give it up easily. They flower all over the place without anyone even half-trying. If you see a cactus blooming and you are not in the desert, you know that there was either the perfect alignment of the stars or the person growing the cactus was very attentive, meeting it's every need, like pampered royalty. I find them more beautiful for it and I appreciate that I learned to love something not commonly considered beautiful. That is very likely the true gift of the grandmothers. And yes, the grandmas had blooming cacti in Nebraska.
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