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By Darrel Murdock - November, 2006 My Grandmother Christel Murdock was the standard by which all grandmothers have been measured, all of my life. My memories of her are profoundly wonderful, refreshed every time I hear the word grandmother or "gramma", as I said it. A gracious host whom even Jesus would applaud for her warmth and hospitality. I was the first one up every morning except for her, whom I would find already cooking at the stove. Ah, those delicious traditional meals served at the big table covered with the blue-checkered cloth. Mmm, that gravy and those smashed potatoes; I can still savor them as I write this. I will not ever sip on root beer without thinking of my grandma's home made brew. I always wondered why they couldn't make root beer in the stores taste as good as hers. I remember her sweet crackly voice like it was yesterday, oh how I adored her. She was unmatched in her generosity and thoughtfulness, sending presents to her multitude of grandkids that she made with her own hands or scraped for not only at Christmas but birthdays, too. Her goodness was the ripples in the pond that have resonated for generations, even this grandson's own grandkids will feel her love through his memories of her. Darrel Robert Murdock, the second son of her first son, Robert Douglas Murdock |
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