Lillian Taylor, or Grandma Taylor as I always called her, was the best grandmother anyone could ask for. With long, floor length white hair pulled into a bun and brown eyes that literally twinkled, she looked like a grandmotherly pixie. I was the envy of all my friends -- they wanted a grandmother just like her. So she adopted them all and treated them like her own. She was truly the kindest person I ever knew. And the most selfless. She didn't help others for any reason except that she felt it was the right thing to do. She used to take a wheelchair-bound woman to the mall every week so that the woman would get some time away from the nursing home in which she lived. She was a caretaker throughout her life. My mother said that shortly after she was born, both of my grandfather's parents fell ill and were bedridden. My grandmother took them in and nursed them until their deaths, despite also having a young baby to care for. My grandmother loved children. She said she always wanted six of her own, but my mother was her only child. Perhaps to make up for this, she loved every child. She babysat for other families and tended to become a part of their family as well. One of these families, the Dyes, considered her one of their own. When my grandmother passed away, Reverend Dye attended the service and talked about what a special woman she was. He had nearly not come, because just a few days before his daugther, one of my grandmother's charges, had had a miscarriage and the Dyes were still reeling from it. But he said he had to come if only to tell what the family had discussed upon hearing of her death. They were wondering how two deaths of such special beings could happen so closely together -- one a much wanted baby and grandchild, the other a kind old woman. Then the baby's mother looked up and said, "Its because Mrs. Taylor had to go. There is a new baby in heaven that she knows she must watch over." He said they were greatly comforted by the knowledge that "Mrs. Taylor" was babysitting another Dye child. My brother and I loved to visit her. A true product of the Great Depression, she kept everything -- newspapers, boxes, ads, toys, clothes, knick-knacks.... Going through her house was like a scavenger hunt through time. She was frugal where she was concerned, but loved splurging on her family. She was also incredibly active and independent. I can only hope that I have a much energy, vigor, and enthusiasm for life as she did. At the age of 81, you could find her on her roof and cleaning the gutters. Or she would call us from the road on one of her many trips with her friend and next door neighbor, Mr. Kohler. They visited Alaska, New York, and various places in between. He said she would be ready to go at a drop of a hat. And everywhere she went, she drove since she did not fly. She had been in a plane in 1938 -- an open air bi-plane ride at a county fair. Apparently, she made some deal with God, because she refused to ever fly again. Kind, independent, and eccentric as hell, she was and is one of my heroes. August 19, 1915 - November 18, 2000