I have a trio of quotations from my grandmother, Verna Lauden. The first is from 1987. The next is undated. The third is from 1992, two years before her death on 1 April 1994.
On my first birthday in Syracuse, New York, in response to my wistful remark that I thought, at the ripe age of 23, I would feel grown up at some point, she noted:
“Oh, cher, I felt like I was fifteen until I was forty-five.”
“What happened then?” I asked.
“I just didn’t feel fifteen no more.”
At some point in response to my complaining that I had had a run of bad luck. “Oh, that’s Laudun luck. If it weren’t for bad luck, we wouldn’t have any luck at all.”
And, just now, I came across a note from a journal I was keeping at the time dated 25 April 1992. I don’t know anything more what we were talking about than what the entry provides:
> In conversation Grandma Laudun noted about the future:
>> “It’s always coming. It never gets further, only closer.”