Buzzy was her affectionate name given to her by Danchu, her husband. She was the only grandparent I knew growing up. Uncle John who was a partner with Stein, Roe, Farnman, managed the estate left to her when Danchu died in 1949 so that she lived well for the remainder of her life. I remember the Cadillac she drove for years. It stalled one time when we were driving up Pikes Peak in 1953. Both my cousin Susie and I were hunkered down behind the back seat while the car creeped backward toward the cliff as Dad tried to start it. Oh, the memories we keep.
Buzzy was a solid democrat who always wore and Adlai Stephenson pin that was a pair of worn out shoes with the holes in the soles showing. She always wrote whomever was President to advise him of his errors of thinking. She even tried to get me removed from the sights of the Selective Service System when Vietnam was boiling. She baby sat my sisters Cynthia and Wendy and me when Mom and Dad might take a trip somewhere. I think we would see her two or three times each year. Most often the visits would be during the holidays and during the summer when our farm was in bloom.
She went around the world once. The stories she told that I can remember were about the poverty in India. Beyond that, I do not remember much conversation nor many smiles during the entire time I knew her. Yet, she was there for us; a solid person with solid views of the world.
Our family tree does not speak of itself. Our stories are kept quiet and to oneself.
She was Buzzy and she was quiet.