Or: My Nana was Better than Yours

Josephine Genevieve Croftcheck Posta Anderson. That’s a very big name for a very small lady. But that’s how it was with my Nana. She was five-foot-nothing and carried herself like she was twelve feet tall and would crush you into dust if you crossed her.

She died two years ago, yesterday, and there hasn’t been a single day since that I haven’t talked about her, thought about her, laughed about her, or cried for her. I still pick up the phone to call her somet...