When one thinks of one’s “Great Grandmother,” I suppose one naturally tends to think of her as having been elegant. And refined. You know, “old fashioned.” And perhaps a bit… stuffy. I should know better. We are talking, after all, about the woman who raised the Wise and Wonderful Betty Gray. Who raised my father. Who… well, you see where this is going, right? The family Zydeco Dance Band had to come from SOMEWHERE. (What’s our Family Zydeco Dance band? Three dudes, a cowbell, and a kazoo. Need I say more?)

Thanks to my dad and my uncle, Barry, I can tell you that THIS is what I should be thinking of when I think “Great Grandmother.”

Maybe it’s a fluke. Ok. Here she is with my great grandfather:

Oh dear. Well, perhaps she talked him into it. Surely he was occasionally dry and refined.

Or not. I bet they had a family Zydeco Dance band, too. Although they had three daughters, so I suppose they’d have to have been Dudettes.

Total mileage this morning: 1.23 miles