MY MATERNAL GRANDMOTHER GREW UP ON A FARM IN SOUTHERN ILLINOIS, one of twelve children. Big families on farms were common then, even necessary. You needed enough hands to make sure everything got done, and death was always a real possibility. My grandmother’s family was no different—only six of the twelve children made it past young adulthood.

Still, my grandmother loved farm life. As a young woman, she was shipped off to St. Louis to make her way in the big city. And she did, becoming a union seamstress in the city’s then bustling garment district along Washington Avenue. But whenever she started telling stories, they were invariably about life on the farm. Continue reading “Remembered holiday stories and simple gifts” →