About Nana

I am creating a blog to document Nana News, as I am calling it.  Nana is my mother Deanie Rhone.  I have always called her Mommy and still do most of the time.  Many of her grandchildren call her Grammy, but  my sister's children, Lori and Jeff, called her Nana from day one. From the time our cat Mitzi joined our household, my mom has referred to herself as Nana to Mitzi.  I think she sees herself as Nana so hence the blog name.

I talk to Nana several times a day.  I call her at 8:10am every morning to make sure she is ok and check how slept.  As soon as she says "Hello", I get a clue about her previous night.  I can tell by the tone of her voice how she is doing.  I get a variety of answers from "OK", to "Good" to "Rotten."  At 88 years old, she doesn't see the need to sugar-coat her answers.

This morning's conversation was in the good category.  She slept last night and was ready to drive to May's DriveIn for her breakfast of pancake, coffee and strawberry jam.  Nana going to May's is like Norm going into Cheers Bar.  Everyone knows her name, what time she normally arrives, what she eats and where she likes to sit.   Steve, the cook, has her pancake - small and flat, just the way she likes it - on the grill before she has taken off her coat.  Although she sits by herself, I don't think she feels alone.  She talks to the waitresses and the other regulars who come to May's almost every morning.  She has her favorites, like Gary,  a pharmacist and owner of the Ben Franklin Pharmacy in Clarkstown where she gets her prescriptions.  She also likes a father and son duo that tease her everyday about eating four packets of Smuckers Strawberry Jam for her dessert. 

Last week a young couple - young is a relative term at 88 - paid for her breakfast.  When she thanked them, the woman said that Nana reminded her of her aunt with that "pretty white hair" as she called it.  I love knowing that she is in such a friendly caring place every morning.

I won't promise to write every day in Nana News, but I plan to update here often to document the moments that seem to slip away so fast.