violets for Violet
my maternal grandmother’s name was violet. like her namesake, she was shy and inconspicuous and reliable, and sort of sadly beautiful. my grandfather was a banker, and she was the elevator girl at the 1st national bank in downtown st paul. he would take the elevator up and down several times a day, neglecting his banking duties, in order to stand in the same elevator as violet. later, after her open heart surgery, this man who had never cooked a meal in his life, learned how to make three meals a day, and change diapers, so that his beloved “Vi” would not have to live outside her home, where she felt comfortable. don’t tell me violets, despite their delicacy, are not powerful beings.