My Memories of the 50’s

My Grandpa Lowe had three grocery stores back in the early 50’s,catfish in iced barrels, fruit brought in an old truck over the grapevine, the town thought Mr. Lowe had plenty of money, being a man that was just quite nifty.

His last name was Lowe but to some it was Lowenstein, making a few more extra bucks was the name of the game, how he played it with all his Irish luck, the actual story told was never the same.

Grandma, wiping the sweat from her brow with her little old apron,was one of the fastest meat slicers, some believed it was from her French heritage that was Louisiana Cajun.  I remember running down the aisles screaming, “more, candy, more,” and Grandpa would say, “just give it to her and lock that back screen door”.

Watermelon fights, throwing eggs at the pigs, setting the haystack on fire was our kind of fun, running away from her as we usually did, Granny Watson yelling at us, “what you kids just did is called sin”.

I think I was six, sitting up in that old apple tree,
I heard wailing and crying, so I jumped down to see.
Last words Granny spoke was, “can’t you see them, the angels are here”, yes, those were her last words, my little Granny Watson so dear!

There was this story I always used to hear,
how Grandpa Lowe borrowed $35,000 from a bank just on a handshake.
Later in life I went to that bank, asked around until I found the man that made the mistake of loaning my Grandpa $35,000 on just a handshake. 
Grocery stores have been in our blood since 1684, but Grandpa Lowe wanted to start a restaurant causing him to open that ominous, fateful door.

It was after WWII had ended and everything was on the upswing, bankrupt, as he was my Grandma Lowe stuck by his side until the day my Grandpa Lowe died. 
She was his rock, his soul mate for life and I would catch her sometimes crying, trying to hide.

Grandma Lowe is gone, but the memories linger, here in my heart they will always sing forever.