I had a big love for my grandmother. Most remember her for her pot roast and grumpy disposition. I remember her for her sewing, rose garden and Martin Luther King speech that she played on her record player (a lot). It’s true she was a moody old woman. But I found her fascinating. Her messy kitchen—the scraps of yellow printed cotton, red rayon, blue corduroy all over the floor. She sewed my cousin and I our summer dresses and smoked cigarettes non stop—an indelible imprint of her character. I didn’t mind how out of fashion the dresses were. My cousin and I had our very own grumpy grandmother who loved us enough to make us cool summer dresses with her own hands.