Grandma Bromeliad recently turned 89. (I think I can say this since Grandma is not identified by name anywhere. Otherwise I'd be one dead epiphyte for telling everyone her age.) A while back, we dug through a box of old photographs, and I asked her about this one. I guess I was expecting something about being young and hopeful, or a story about the house she lived in.
"We were so poor then," she said. "Look at my shoes."
End of story. I almost fell out of my chair laughing. That's my Grandma.
The original Bromeliad, she always had class, regardless of income. She turned more than one shabby apartment into a palace of style. I remember her scrubbing the shared stairwell of any rental she lived in and lining the walls with Harrison Fisher prints.
We grandchildren drank milk from depression glass goblets and ate our grapefruit with serrated silver spoons. To this day, I can't bring myself to sit a plastic squeeze bottle on the dining room table. 
Image via susiemax.com
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