Our Story

When I was a young wife and mother, I decided I was going to try my hand at making her donuts. I called her multiple times to figure out all her tips and tricks. Her recipe was simple, but all her knowledge and knowhow was very precise and proved difficult for most who tried to make them. I was a good student though and I listened carefully to everything she told me. From that moment on, every time I saw her, she would ask me about donuts. It was how we bonded. You see, when you are 1 of 40 plus grandkids, you don’t get a lot of personal time with Gma, and her and I did not have much in common early on. She was a disciplined school teacher, a talented musician and a mother who became the sole provider after the loss of my Grandpa May when I was only 1 year old. I however, was a rambunctious tomboy, who hated school and piano lessons and got into trouble so much it seemed I was never not in trouble. One thing remains true though, I always knew she loved me. She would wrap her arms around you so tight you could barely breathe and when she saw you, she would holler out a “well hello” so loud the neighborhood could hear. And if your friends were there, they were getting hugs too.

A few years after making donuts at home, I started heading to NV every December, that I could manage, to help her with her Christmas donuts. Each time I went, it became harder and harder to leave her. She would sit up late with me, telling stories, sharing her testimony and talking about Richard (my grandfather). I would lotion her legs and rub her feet, cut her toenails, help her into her support socks, pluck some chin hairs she couldn’t see and listen to all she said. I cherish every single moment I had like that with her. The opportunity to serve her filled my heart and soul. I realized in those moments, just how special she was, and how lucky I was to call her Grandma.