Rich man, poor man, beggar man, thief. Doctor, lawyer, Indian Chief

Grandma Williams came to mind this morning as I was getting ready for the day. I can see her now sitting in the old wooden, green rocker with her legs crossed. She had on a print dress with an apron. With beautiful white hair balled up at the back of her head, she was beautiful to me with her brown eyes. She'd rock and look out the door across the green yard at neighbors houses. No air-conditioning back then, just hand fans from some local funeral home. Grandma's dresses were shirt waist styled with buttons all the way to the bottom, or tail as some would say. She liked to take a dip of snuff as she sat and rested. I stayed with Grandma in the summers while Mother worked. I liked to sit on her little love-seat and talk with her. We didn't sit on the piazza very much due to the heat. Oh, that's what Grandma called the front porch. Strange that I've never heard that word since Grandma passed away. But Grandma taught me something about figuring out the boy I was going to marry and I've never forgotten it. She counted the buttons on her dress and said, "Rich man, poor man, beggar man, thief, doctor, lawyer, Indian chief," as she went from one button to another. The one she ended on was the one she would marry. Why I'd say that little rhyme as I searched for buttons trying my best to get to a doctor, but it didn't work out right for me. Strange there wasn't a preacher in the mix somewhere. That's where mine should have stopped and that would have been a good thing. It has been nearly 52 years now and it's been a good life.