She had a coy little way of disagreeing with you,
like when I mentioned that the democratic candidate
would make for a pretty good county commissioner and
she turned to the side, looked at me and said, “Oh, yes?”

My brother and I never told her that we taught our sister
how to dance or play cards.
She came from an era when spouses upheld what we call
A severe division of labor.
She did the housekeeping; he did the finances.

So,
after my grandpa died,
she bought all the bouquets she wanted from Thrifty Foods.
And then she gave the Republicans her bank account number over the phone.

“She thought it would be easier if they could just
take what they needed right out of the account,” my mom told me.
The bank called my dad;
he handled her finances after that one.

The Bush’s sent my grandma a Christmas card
which she hung on her refrigerator for years.
She couldn’t tell if they really signed it,
but still, she told us, the Clinton’s never sent her one.
My uncle shrugged,
“Maybe she knows something we don’t.”