Chapter 5 - The Shopping Trip

"Well, young lady, your worldly possessions don't amount to much, do they? And I'm afraid what you had hidden in the suitcase was gone. You'll need these for school, but Tamar's is going to have to go shopping.

"I guess so."

"Then, let's see what we can find suitable for a young woman to wear in public at Mary's Closet. You don't mind shopping at a Catholic Church, do you?"

"What?"

"The good people at St. Vincent DePaul run a place for low income people to find clothing at prices they can afford, sometimes even free in an emergency. I suspect you quite readily qualify as low income and this is an emergency?"

"Probably no income. I just made money doing odd hobs for neighbors. I'd love to work as Tamar, but I don't think that's possible right now."

"You're probably right, you need to learn how to be a young woman before you try to go public in weather that isn't going to freeze your buns off."

"Don't remind me!"

"Ok, only three or four more times should satisfy me."

"Thanks!"

"Tamar… What you were wearing when I found you isn't the kind of thing you want if you're going to blend in."

"I…"

"I know, you probably didn't have much choice in what you could get, but we need to think of what a girl your age would wear to school or, if you'll pardon the expression, church. You don't want to draw attention to yourself."

"I suppose so."

"Don't sound so enthusiastic. It takes a born woman years to figure out her style, you haven't had that opportunity. So you get a crash course in wardrobe from an ancient crone who is trying to think like a modern teenager."

"You aren't an ancient crone, Karen."

"OK, skip the crone part but I do qualify as ancient. I think this may be a job that calls for my great-granddaughter's talents."

"Great-granddaughter?"

"Told you I'm an old crone. She's about your age and would probably be a better guide to fashion. You game to have me give her a call?"

"Do you have to tell her about…"

"Nope. From this point forward you're a young woman as far as anyone except your doctors are concerned. I'll just exaggerate a little bit about your parents to explain why you aren't up on the latest fashions and one name stars on the covers of the checkout magazines."

"Really?"

"Really. I think I may have a wraparound skirt somewhere in my closet that might do well enough to get you to Mary's Closet. Kind of ironic, that , since the whole purpose of this trip is to get you out of the closet?"

"Are you always this crazy?"

"Nope, I'm still taking my meds and they only look in on me every couple of days. I'm almost normal today."

"What?"

"It's a joke, girl! I'm unconventional, but saner than most of the yahoos running for office."

"That wouldn't take much."

"Tell me about it."
 

"Hi Grams, what's up?"

"According to the Dictionary.com it's the opposite of down; 'toward, or in a more elevated position'; even 'into or in activity' "

"You swallow the dictionary or somethin'?"

"Look it up on line, sprite. Dictionary.com. You asked, I told."

"Jeez!"

"In this case, the idea of 'to a more elevated position' is exactly what my young friend requires. I have a mission for you."

"Wow! Do I get to be a spy?"

"Better yet, you get to go shopping."

"Cool! What's up?"

"I already told you, the opp…"

"OK, OK, I get it."

"In this case, I have taken in a teenage girl who was thrown out of her house and has very little to wear. Her parents could best be described by one of your favorite words: dorks. She has the fashion sense of a droid."

"Break out the credit card and let's do it, Grams!"

"I'm afraid the budget is quite limited, Kayla. No job, no funds. I'm taking her to Mary's Closet."

"You want her to look like a nun? C'mon Grams!"

"The nuns only started the place, the people who donate the clothes have color vision, my dear. And besides, nuns haven't worn those black and white monstrosities in decades. You're behind the times."

"Behind the times, Grams? I'm not behind the times, I simply appreciate tradition. I love a challenge."

"So do I and she is one."

"I'm not going to have to listen to Grandpa go off on you taking in strays again, am I?"

"Probably. Your 'Aunt' Lisa turned out pretty well and don't let your grandfather fool you, he's taken a few strays in his time even if he likes to play the curmudgeon. I raised the boy right."

"Hard to think of Grandpa as a boy, Grams."

"I was there; he was an exasperating boy, and you seem to have inherited far too much from him."

"I get it from the same place he got it from. So when do I get to meet this mystery girl?"

"How about in half an hour? I'm afraid it's rather urgent, she's wearing one of my old wraparound skirts right now for lack of anything more suitable."

"Not to say anything about your fashion sense, Grams, but you'll scar her for life."

"Then, Dr. Kayla, you will have to perform emergency surgery so the patient can appear in public without the scars showing."

"Got it. I'll be waiting with a pile of Cosmos to begin her education."

 

"Hey Grams! This place isn't as bad as I thought it would be."

"Most things aren't. You learn that when you get ancient like me. Tamar, you and Kayla go exploring while I talk to the people here."

"C'mon Tamar, I can't wait to be a fashion consultant. I wonder if they have any jeans that won't look like farmer pants?"

"Jeans?"

"Yeah, you want to look good you got to have some jeans that show your ass off right."

"Kayla, look at my ass and tell me if it's something I want to show off."

"Well, you do seem to be a bit low on ass, now that you mention it."

"I kinda prefer skirts so it doesn't show so much."

"OK, but you gotta have some jeans. No one wears skirts unless they're trolling."

"Trolling?"

"Ya know, like fishermen? Throw a hook overboard and cruise 'till you get a bite."

"If you say so."

"Jeez, were you raised in a convent? Trolling for boys! A little booty shaking goes a long way."

"Right now I'm not interested in fishing. I just want to look nice."

"And I'm the girl to show you how. What d'ya think of this one."

"It's nice."

"Into the pile it goes. See anything else you like?"

"Is that velvet?"

"Probably some imitation, but it does look good. Sunday-go-to-meeting good."

"I don't intend to go to any meetings on Sunday any more, Kayla, but I do like it."

"Then call it Saturday-go-to-the-dance. We're flexible, here."

While the girls were happily discussing the merits of each piece of clothing, Karen had a talk with the people running the place. Without mentioning the transgendered nature of her newly acquired great-granddaughter, she explained her circumstances. This wasn't the first time they had dealt with this sort of problem. Mary's Closet was a local version of a charity found in many cities, serving the poor and immigrant population. They were good people who tried hard to make life better for those who had been handed the short end of the stick.

Karen found a seat and mused as she watched girls tear through the piles of clothes. Tamar was torn between boyish embarrassment and girlish wonder at the choices.

°°How is it that there's only a year between them and Kayla looks so much more mature? Obviously the Puberty Fairy had missed her appointment with Timothy, but if she was wanting to make a change that might be all to the good.°°

°°Unless there was some medical problem. Better call the insurance people and find who they'll accept as a GP. Wasn't that a whole ball of worms? I hope the family's insurance is liberal about gender issues, such things don't come cheap and Tamar's resources were limited. Too bad you can't fake the medical establishment as easily as you can fake most people.°°

°°Ah, Kayla has her over to the jeans and slacks. Good, the poor dear wants to wear skirts but how many women wear skirts these days? Lord knows I gave them up long ago for something more practical in the air. Still, it is nice to go dancing and flaunt your legs. Damn, I miss George! He wasn't Fred Astaire but he was a fine partner for the tango!°°

°°Looks like they're finally at the tops. That's quite a pile they have there, it's going to take forever for her to try them on and show them off. Oops! I forgot that two teenage girls will want to giggle and share a dressing room. How is Tamar going to handle that? What's she using inside that bra? How is Kayla going to handle that?°°

°°I guess we'll find out soon - there they go into the changing rooms. I can't believe I've gotten myself into this. I can just hear George telling me about picking up strays like he used to. Not that he didn't do it too, but he had so much fun twitting me. Wonder what he'd think of Tamar? He had no problems with me wearing pants way back when, would he accept a boy in a skirt?°°

°°Ah, the enthusiasm of youth. I hope I can make it through raising another child, even if she's mostly raised. Do I have enough energy to cope with a teenager?°°

°°Oh! Here they come. Tamar looks like she's died and gone to heaven. Funny how I fall back on those kind of allusions even though I haven't believed in that stuff since I was a little girl. Looks like Tamar is getting to be a big girl today, I'm going to have to give Kayla a big hug. That girl is the perfect person to help a poor, lost chick.°°

"What d'ya think, Grams?" Kayla asked.

"Tamar, you look lovely. How's it feel to have a personal dresser?"

"Great! C'mon Kayla, let's try on the rest of this stuff!"

"Kayla, I knew you couldn't resist trying on something yourself, but I doubt your mother will be thrilled with your belly button hanging out. Not that it isn't a nice little belly button, but old folks can get crotchety about such things."

"Oh, Grams!"

"Oh Grams yourself. If you can get away with it , I'll look forward to seeing it on you next summer. I doubt you want to wear it home today."

"No way! It's still snowing, but the beach is waiting, Grams!"

°°They are having fun, aren't they? Good thing the ladies are into charity since Tamar has to have a complete wardrobe from scratch. George left me well off, but I'm still going to have to spring for bras and panties and such, those I'm not getting second hand!°°

°°Have they finally finished? I hope so, this chair is getting hard. This getting old stuff is a pain, I miss my afternoon nap. That wig has got to go. What are we going to do about that? °°

"They're having a great time, aren't they Karen?"

Christine, one of the church ladies, had come over to where Karen was sitting.

"Oh! I do believe they are. Nothing like teenagers let loose in a clothing shop."

"As long as they're girls. You wouldn't believe how many boys come in here with their moms and act like they're being tortured."

"I remember my own son - he hated shopping. Don't know where he got that from, his father loved to take me out dressed to the nines. A shame George isn't here to see this, he always wanted a girl to spoil."

"Well, your granddaughters are trying to make up for it."

"Great-granddaughters, dear. Good thing I have Kayla to help, I'm too old to keep up with outfitting a teenager."

"You'll never get too old, Karen."

"Tell me, who but a dotty old woman would pick a teenager off the street in a snowstorm and take her in?"

"Anyone with a heart, Karen."

"When you get to my age you start worrying about heart failure."

"Not that kind of heart. The kind of heart it takes to help someone will never fail."

"Let's hope so."

"Karen, if it's not too impolite to ask, why is she wearing that awful wig?"

"Let's just say that teenagers can make some awful mistakes in the pursuit of beauty if their parents are not around. I know I need to find her something better, but I haven't a clue how to do it."

"Perhaps I can help. Let me call Sue, she works with the people who find wigs for women who are going through chemo. They might be able to help."

"I should have known there would be angels hanging around a church. Would you?"

"Of course. I'll be back in a minute."

°°Look at them, if Tamar tries to walk in those heels she'll be flat on her face. Whew! Looks like Kayla has some sense after all, she's putting them back. Girl's going to need something sensible for school.°°

°°School, I had to think of that. How the devil am I going to get her into a school? Oops, I suppose I shouldn't be invoking the devil in a church - then again there are some preachers that positively delight in invoking the old sod. Guess the big guy will forgive me.°°

°°Damn! I derailed my train of thought again. Who do I know can help me there? This whole thing keeps growing, doesn't it. Hmmm… Maybe Bruce? Talk about stereotypes - call a gay man to ask about a boy who wants to be a girl.°°

°°Oh-oh. Kayla's got her phone out. I suppose I've been lucky she hasn't been on it so far today. What happens when two competing needs collide in a sixteen year old. Can she shop and talk at the some time? Maybe I should call Bruce while I'm sitting here waiting. No, I need to wait so I can give Bruce my full attention, I'm not sixteen years old. Boy, is that an understatement!°°

"Karen?"

"Oh! What did you find out?"

"Sue thinks she might be able to help. Let me give you her address, she's just hanging out and cleaning house today. She welcomes any excuse to stop cleaning. And she's only a few blocks away."

"My kind of woman. Thank you, Christine."

"Hey Grams!"

"Hey yourself, child. Have you sated your appetite for fashion?"

"For a few hours, maybe even a day or two."

"Good, when you get hungry for fashion you're your mother's problem. You have more stamina than I do. It looks like Tamar will be able to show her face in public now."

"Uh Grams? That wig has got to go first. No way it works."

"I had noticed that, my eyes haven't started to fail completely. Christine over there has made arrangements to help. That's our next stop."

"Grams?"

"Yes?"

"You do know that she's not really a she?"

"Of course. I suppose it wasn't hard to figure that out with her in the dressing room."

"Didn't take that long. A girl can tell."

"In this case the girl shouldn't tell."

"Jeez, Grams, I'm not stupid!"

"I know you aren't, but when people say 'it goes without saying' it often needs to be said."

"Philosophy, yet! You do hang out with some interesting people. Can you tell me what's going on?"

"I'm hoping you can be friends with your new cousin and help her out. She's had some pretty nasty things happen to her. Let her tell you what she feels comfortable sharing, give her some time."

"Sure! She'll fit right in at school. We got Goths and Dykes and some really weird types in my class; we got the whole lecture on diversity last semester. There's still some jocks and holier-than-thou types who don't get it, but I don't hang around with creeps like that."

"That's good to hear, but it will be Timothy who starts school as long as I can get the paperwork sorted. I hope you'll be his friend as well."

"You don't ask much, do you Grams? You should have adopted a cat, it would have been a lot easier."

"Now who's being catty, great-granddaughter?"

"Meow. Life sure gets interesting with you around. I mean, we've only known each other for a couple of hours but I have a hard time thinking of her as a Timothy."

"Which I'm sure will make Tamar happy. She needs a friend, he hasn't had very many and she hasn't had any."

"I'll just think of him as her secret identity, camouflage during the day until Tamar gets a call on the super-hero hotline."

"Have you been reading my mind, youngster? I've been thinking of Batman and his ward, Robin."

"Maybe you should think Wonder Woman. Now that she has something besides your baggy old lady clothes to wear she might make a go of it."

"I suppose you'll want to take me shopping now. Baggy old lady clothes indeed!"

"Can I? I could add 'fashion consultant' to my resume."

"Since when do you have a resume?"

"Since we had to make one for Intro to Business. I figure I can use it again in Creative Writing."

"You young people are all into recycling, aren't you?"

"Got it in one. Here she comes, Grams, she does look a lot better."

"Thanks, oh youthful fashion consultant.

Chapter 6 - The Learning Curve

For Karen, January was a busy month. When the new year rolled around she had expected it to be much like the old. When you've celebrated the new year 86 times, you get to have a feeling for the process.

That is until you do something like raising a transgendered great-granddaughter. Karen's sardonic humor had her comparing herself to Batman - Bruce Wayne had a ward; now so did she. She found herself wishing she had her own Alfred many times. It was unbelievable the number of phone calls she had to make: doctors, psychiatrists, schools, support groups, various friends or friends of friends that could help her and Tamar navigate the path to femininity.

There were times when Karen wondered if she needed to see a shrink herself. What kind of fruitcake would turn her life upside down for a boy that wanted to be a girl? It was at times like these when she remembered all the people who told her that girls didn't fly airplanes! Even after all these decades of proving the cursed buggers wrong it still rankled.

She remembered training in Houston for the WASPs, the sticky mud, the fog, the crap from the men who wouldn't admit a woman could be just as good a pilot as they were. She and the girls showed them how wrong they were, but it still rankled how quickly they were dumped when the war was over. It took 'em until just a few years ago to admit they deserved some recognition. A Congressional gold medal is all fine and good, but half of us were dead by the time they got around to it.

Then there was the fight against the stupid airline rules that made stewardesses retire at 32 because they weren't sexy enough. In the sixties the buggers found lots of ways to keep women out of the cockpit, but she was out on the line fighting for the stews all the same. By the time there was a chance for her to fly commercially she was too old to do it.
 

That first semester was hard on them both. The poor kid practically had an identity crisis changing between Timothy and Tamar. The rush to change clothes every day after school always left Karen smiling, Tamar was so much more relaxed and happy when she came out of the bedroom than she was when she went in.

Getting Timothy into the public school only required a few hissy fits with the bureaucracy. Sure, Tamar wanted to be Tamar right now, but a couple of weeks just wasn't enough time to make the change.

Her geriatrician was amused by her request for a referral to a pediatrician, but after the explanation it turned out there was a doctor in his practice that was willing. Insurance wasn't the hassle she had feared, Obamacare had its advantages, but she and Tamar were skating on some pretty thin ice.

The GP opined that Timothy was in good health, even if puberty was rather late for him. When he learned of the gender dysphoria he asked quite a few questions and then provided a referral to a gender specialist.

Then it got trickier; the semester was almost over by the time Tamar had an appointment. By this time Tamar was attending a support group regularly and the consensus was that Dr. Villanova was one of the best in the area. She was eventually willing to prescribe antiandrogens but nothing more until Tamar was legally of age, which was 18 in New York.

Karen was still questioning her sanity for getting herself into the situation, although she questioned her sanity each and every time she had 'taken in a stray,' as George had so frequently put it. This time was a bit different, she was at a loss to know what was right with a transgendered boy, so she called upon her friend Bruce Nelson for help. Bruce was a fellow pilot. Although two generations younger than Karen they had become fast friends. Bruce's other significant attribute was that he was openly gay. By this time she knew that gay and transgender were not the same, but they were related somehow.

"What's up, Karen?"

"Not me since I grounded myself. Too old to go up safely anymore, my reaction times are pitiful and I sometimes wonder about the old ticker."

"Life's a bitch, ain't it? You can go up with me any time, old girl."

"Thanks, Bruce, I just might take you up on that someday soon. Anyway, I'm up in the air about something else: I've somehow fallen in a bowl of alphabet soup and the letters have come up LGBTQ."

"And you think Queer questions are my stock in trade?"

"OK, I deserved that, but I need some advice on the 'T' part of it."

"How trite - a little old lady throwing a 'T' party!"

"These days that would be pretty easy as I have a 'T' living with me. I need some advice on raising a teenager with a 'T'."

"Wait a minute! You can't be telling me you have a tranny teenager living with you?"

"You aren't old enough to be losing your hearing yet. I plucked her off the streets in a snowstorm."

"Karen, you don't need my advice, you need the men with the butterfly nets."

"You may be right, but until they show up I could use some advice with a little more authority than the talk shows. I don't want to screw the kid up any more than she already is."

"Don't take this the wrong way, but you need professional help."

"I understand that, and she's got an appointment with a specialist and we've found a peer counseling group for her. The thing is, I need to understand the whole transgender thing a lot better. I don't think Tamar would be comfortable with me in her group just yet."

"Have you ever heard of any teenager who would be comfortable with grandma around in a self-help group?"

"Great-grandmother, so I called the nearest thing to an expert I knew."

"You must be desperate!"

"You're the only gay man I know who's open about it, and I know there is a big difference between gay and transgendered. I believe the buzzword is on the spectrum.

"Which is why being gay no longer gets you thrown into prism."

"Bruce! Are you ever serious?"

"Only in the cockpit, my dear. Let me cogitate on this a while, there is someone I met a while back, but it was after quite a few beers so the memory is as fuzzy as the foam on my glass."

"Through a glass, darkly… How appropriate, as my ward takes her name from a Bible story. If you remember when you sober up let me know."

"I'm sober now, just memory impaired. I'm flying this afternoon."

"Go ahead and rub it in, with me sitting here on the ground."

"I know it sucks to give up your license, but I'm glad you did it before someone had to force it on you. My parents went through hell when my grandfather got so bad he couldn't drive. Must be worse for a pilot who has to give up a license twice."

"I can see it coming, Bruce, but I'm not there yet. I hope I'll be clear enough to know when the time comes."

"Maybe that new great-granddaughter will keep you young for a while longer. Listen, I meant it about going up with me. There's a fly-in breakfast this weekend, I could probably smuggle you two on board if you want."

"I want! Tamar is still a bit rough around the edges, but it will do her good to get out and mingle and it will do me a world of good to be in the air again."

"I'll give you a call when I know more, and I'll see if I can find a mentor for you."

"You're a gem, Bruce."
 

A couple of hours later the phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Mrs Walters? This is Wade Robbins, Bruce Nelson asked me to give you a call."

"Oh yes, I'm glad to hear from you. I certainly could use some advice."

"I understand you have taken in a transgendered girl and are feeling a bit overwhelmed."

"That's a nice word, overwhelmed. It fits pretty well, too."

"Doesn't it! The whole idea of the child you thought was a boy is really a girl is quite overwhelming. We've had quite a few years to process the whole thing, but for you to have to become an instant parent to a transgendered child must be difficult."

"Difficult but rewarding, Mr Robbins."

"Wade, please!"

"And I'm Karen. Tamar is becoming a lovely child now that she is in a place that isn't trying to force her to be something she isn't, but I don't want to do anything to harm her development. I just don't know enough on the subject."

"Does anyone? It's one of those 'on the job training' kind of things. Let me tell you just what happened to us…"

An hour or so later Karen felt much better, Wade had given her a lot to think about and his support was very encouraging. A transgendered child is still a child, she had raised two of her own and could do it again. At least this time she didn't have to change any diapers.
 

Early Saturday morning found Karen and Tamar at a small airport in the nearby Town of Clarence. Tamar was as nervous as Karen was excited; this was both Tamar's first real outing and the first time she was in an airport. On one hand it was wonderful to be wearing a skirt and feeling like the woman she knew herself to be, but there was that nasty fear of exposure simmering just below the surface. She had chosen a simple white top and knee length black skirt for the expedition and was very aware of the bra with its two small bags of sand giving her some modest curves. She was disappointed to be wearing flats, but Karen had pointed out that high heels and grass runways were a poor combination.

Fortunately, there were only a few people in evidence so early in the morning and none of them seemed to be paying her any particular attention. They met Bruce, looking very much the part in a leather bomber jacket, baggy pants and WWI vintage flight goggles and a long, white scarf wrapped around his neck.

"What's with the getup?" asked Karen.

"You know how us queers love leather!"

"And I suppose you have a Jenny waiting for us to go with the outfit?"

"Wouldn't you love it if I did, but no such luck. Besides, the Curtiss JN-4 was a two-seater, someone would have to stay behind. I do happen to have a Piper Cherokee, which should do the job nicely and won't ruin your hairdo in the wind.

"Then quit flappin' your gums, old buddy, and lets get up there!"

There comes a point in stories like these when the young crossdresser learns to enter and leave a car without embarrassment, but Tamar faced a more complex problem. To enter the airplane you have to climb up on to the wing, a task made difficult by the rather tight skirt she was wearing. Once on the wing you open the door and clamber down into the cockpit. By the time she was seated she was wishing she had followed Karen's advice and worn slacks, but she made it with her modesty intact.

Once they were in, Bruce picked up a clipboard and ran through the pre-flight checks, then picked up a microphone and started a stream of incomprehensible jargon that must have meant something to the person on the other end of the communication. With the protocols satisfied they taxied to the grass strip runway. Tamar felt a surge and they rolled forward and lifted into the air.

Tamar forgot her nervousness as the landscape revealed itself. Below was a checkerboard pattern of brown and green fields; some were brown with the winter's soil still bare, some were faintly green with the new crop just poking out of the ground and others were verdant with the spring plantings. The view was spectacular, especially for someone who had never been up in a small plane.

"I can see why you love to fly, Grams. This is amazing!"

"Isn't it, though. I try not to get too grumpy because I can't drive this thing, but riding with Bruce is the next best thing."

"Think you could still walk on the wings, Granny?" inquired Bruce?

"You know the stall speed for this crate is faster than the cruise speed for the rigs I used to fly. Besides, I may be spry in my old age, but not so stupid as to try such acrobatics at my age."

"And seeing that I don't have a parachute I'm not about to try out for George's part in your little airshow."

"You really did stuff like that, Grams?"

"I surely did! George and I had a ball, there's nothing like the freedom of flying."

Bruce swung the plane around so they could get a glimpse of the Buffalo skyline before pointing the nose to Dansville NY. Dansville is the home of the Finger Lakes Soaring Club and most weekends you could see many gliders circling on the thermals, as well as small planes in the air. On the Memorial Day and Labor Day weekends the skies were filled with hot air balloons in a spectacular and colorful display.

The fly-in breakfast is a venerable institution among small plane enthusiasts. Tamar found it not much different than the church fund-raising breakfasts she had attended all her life, that is if you ignored the cavernous hanger and the less-than-fundamentalist repartee among the crowd.

She stuck close to Karen and Bruce, still unsure of her new, feminine self and a bit intimidated by the alien environment of these enthusiastic and friendly pilots. They spent the morning schmoozing with friends and watching the aircraft and gliders take off, then walked to the nearby Burger King for lunch. The flight home was routine, but still exciting for someone who had never been in the air before.
 

Living life as a part time boy and part time girl was stressful for them both, but in some ways gave Tamar time to develop as a girl. Learning a whole new set of social conventions is not done overnight. Karen worried that the gulf in their ages would cause Tamar some problems, but her Junior Henchman Kayla assiduously drilled her ward with the proper mannerisms and attitude for a girl in her Sophomore year of high school.

Mid February came and Tamar's sixteenth birthday passed quietly with a small party. There were no friends from school that Timothy wanted to know about Tamar, but Kayla had introduced her to several of her friends who made the party an occasion.

Somewhat to Karen's surprise, Tamar found a home in the kitchen. She was an eager student of the culinary, helping Karen with meals and reading up cookbooks like some people read novels. Karen was bemused to find herself in middle eastern markets buying lentils and exotic spices or Asian markets filling a bag with bean sprouts or odd shaped mushrooms. Her diet expanded marvelously, and was very tasty despite the occasional spectacular failures that provided grist for running jokes as Karen and Tamar became a true family.

By the Easter break Tamar was starting to become a real person, enough to spend most of the break week with Kayla. Karen was nervous, but her little chick had to fly sometime. Karen had forgotten how school breaks had freed the soul of an adventurous young woman and let her wander over the landscape having adventures away from adults. The landscape was markedly different than her own childhood, but Kayla and Tamar managed to find sufficient adventure to keep Karen's great-granddaughters busy.
 

As it always had, the weather warmed and spring came along. Looking out over the winter ravaged yard, Karen turned to her ward and asked "Have you ever done any gardening, Tamar?"

"A little, I sometimes helped my mother plant flowers."

"Good, then you have some experience. I haven't done much gardening lately, it just gets to be too much for these old bones. If you're willing I'd like to try and resurrect the flower beds this year, the yard looks so much better with growing things in it."

"I'd be glad to help if you tell me what to do."

"Then let's go outside and rake out the gardens and see what may have survived."

So they went out to the garage where they found shovels and rakes and other implements of destruction, with Tamar raking and Karen collecting the piles and putting them in the wheelbarrow.

"Still game to help after that workout, Tamar?"

"Next time maybe you could hire a lawn care company? I always thought that ladies shouldn't work up a sweat."

"Nonsense! One of my grandchildren runs a lawn care outfit and half of the workers are women. This 'ladies don't sweat' guff belongs back in the forties."

"I'll agree when I stop sweating, Grams."

"No sweat, child."

"Ouch!"

"I'm not so old I don't know how you young whippersnappers talk. This weekend we can go to the garden center and find some plants. You can dig the holes and I can supervise."

"Age discrimination! We could both supervise and call one of your many offspring to do the work."

"Good Lord, I'm raising a manager. Do you really want to spend your life in a three piece suit?"

"I could live with a skirted suit. Would I have to smoke a big cigar while I pushed peons around?"

"Cigars aren't ladylike and it's much more rewarding to push posies into the ground."

"Fine, as long as someone else digs the holes."

"Now Tamar, have you ever read Tom Sawyer?"

"Of course!" Tamar replied with a look only a teenage girl could give an addled adult.

"Close your mouth, you'll catch flies. It's a classic for a reason. What did Tom do when he didn't want to work?"

"Became a boss?"

"Close. He got someone else to do the work."

"Isn't that what bosses do?"

"You may be right. How about we invite Kayla to go with us to the garden center, then you can see if you're as resourceful as Tom Sawyer."

"Did Tom ever wear dresses?"

"I don't think so, but if he could have gotten something out if it I suspect he would have tried."

"Good enough for me. Let's call Kayla."
 

Karen had to laugh - discreetly, of course. This shopping trip with the girls couldn't be more different than their earlier trip to Mary's closet. Kayla, instead of being the font of knowledge of all things fashionable, was baffled by the array of greenery and such terms as aeration, dead-heading and monoecious?

"Monoecious?" queried Kayla. "Does that mean the thing had Mono. I had that and it sucked."

"Since most plants don't have red blood cells I doubt they could get mono. Monoecious means that a plant has both male and female flowers."

"Sounds like an appropriate plant for my garden, Grams," opined Tamar."

"Some trout-lilies would look lovely, as do some other things with both male and female attributes."

"Grams!"

"Is there an echo in here? You should learn to speak one at a time, us old folks can't handle multiple conversations."

"Yeah right!"

"Sure!"

"Much better, darlings. Would you care to tiptoe through the tulips with me?"

"Why can't we just walk?"

Embarrassing her charges Karen began to sing

Tiptoe through the window
By the window, that is where I'll be
Come tiptoe through the tulips with me

Oh, tiptoe from the garden
By the garden of the willow tree
And tiptoe through the tulips with me

"Grams!"

"You're echoing again."
 

By the time the summer arrived the front garden was quite lovely.