My Grandma Wiles was my dad’s mother. Her name was Violia, and everyone called her Vi. She had changed the spelling of her name from Viola to add an additional “i”; she was very determined. She grew up on the family farm and was a pretty amazing cook. My memory of her is that she loved to can. It would be summertime in Weeping Water, Nebraska — population less than a thousand — and really hot. She’d be standing in the kitchen in her cotton dress, usually barefoot. All of us kids were afraid to go into the house because she had this old pressure cooker going. This thing would be rattling, we would hear the noise, the steam’s coming out, and it’s hotter than blazes. We were terrified because that pressure cooker worked a lot of overtime and we’d heard terrible stories about them exploding. My cousins and I still laugh about the pressure cooker. We were silly. It was fun. She thought we were ridiculous, and that was ok. Grandma Wiles died at 93. She had a wonderful life, she really did. Lots of grandkids, lots of great-grandkids. She also taught me how to embroider. She was a lovely lady.