All my life, up until that moment, I'd had a warm, protective blanket wrapped around me, knitted of aunts and uncles, purled of first and second and third cousins, knot-tied with grandmas and grandpas and greats. That blanket had just dropped from my shoulders. I felt cold, lost and alone.
Karen Marie Moning
I've met so many fans of daytime television who've watched the shows with their moms and grandmas and feel like they've known the characters their whole lives. It's sad for them to have to say goodbye to their favorite soaps and characters. We don't want that to happen to the 'Days' fans.
A lot of groups, they get put together. But we don't even think of each other as a group. I don't think I'm in a group with two other guys, where I don't know their moms and their grandmas, their aunties, and I don't know where they came from. This is my immediate family. These are the only people I know. That's why we be around each other so much.
I don't think of myself as a feminist, but if someone calls me a feminist icon, that's fine. I've always stood up for women and myself in general. I have a great love and respect, because I have had beautiful sisters, aunts and my grandmas, but I love men. I totally understand the nature of men.
The groove is so mysterious. We're born with it and we lose it and the world seems to split apart before our eyes into stupid and cool. When we get it back, the world unifies around us, and both stupid and cool fall away. I am grateful to those who are keepers of the groove. The babies and the grandmas who hang on to it and help us remember when we forget that any kind of dancing is better than no dancing at all.
If I had lady-spider legs, I would weave a sky where the stars lined up. Matresses would be tied down tight to their trucks, bodies would never crash through windshields. The moon would rise above the wine-dark sea and give babies only to maidens and musicians who had prayed long and hard. Lost girls wouldn't need compasses or maps. They would find gingerbread paths to lead them out of the forest and home again. They would never sleep in silver boxes with white velvet sheets, not until they were wrinkled-paper grandmas and ready for the trip.
Laurie Halse Anderson
BETTER HOPE I DON'T SCRATCH IT, OR THAT'S IT I'MMA GET MY ASS KICKED, THAT'S A CLASSIC CAN'T EXPLAIN THAT I WAS JUST BORROWING IT MOMS ON A RAMPAGE LOOKIN' FOR HER PARLIAMENT AND DONNY HATHAWAY FEELIN LIKE A CAST'AWAY HIDING IN GRANDMAS ROOM MORE THAN HALF THE DAY IF I TOLD HER THAT HER PARLIAMENT AT BRIAN CRIB AND NOBODY HOME NOW, I'MMA BE A CRYING KID BUT IT'S SEEMING LIKE I'M SAFE FOR THE TIME BEING MY UNCLE GETTIN ALL THE BLAME FAR AS I'M SEEING I JUST GOTTA LAY LOW LIKE A SNAKE BELLY IT'S A STICKY SITUATION LIKE GRAPE JELLY I'M ON THE TITANIC, OR SOME OTHER BOAT GOT MY UNCLE AND MY MOTHER AT EACH OTHERS THROAT
Granny Trill and Granny Wallon were traditional ancients of a kind we won't see today, the last of that dignity of grandmothers to whom age was its own embellishment. The grandmothers of those days dressed for the part in that curious but endearing uniform which is now known to us only through music-hall. And our two old neighbours, when setting forth on errands, always prepared themselves scrupulously so. They wore high laced boots and long muslin dresses, beaded chokers and candlewick shawls, crowned by tall poke bonnets tied with trailing ribbons and smothered with inky sequins. They looked like starlings, flecked with jet, and they walked in a tinkle of darkness. Those severe and similar old bodies enthralled me when they dressed that way. When I finally became King (I used to think) I would command a parade of grandmas, and drill them, and march them up and down - rank upon rank of hobbling boots, nodding bonnets, flying shawls, and furious chewing faces. They would be gathered from all the towns and villages and brought to my palace in wagon-loads. No more than a monarch's whim, of course, like eating cocoa or drinking jellies; but far more spectacular any day than those usual trudging guardsmen.