My grandmother was widowed at a young age. My dad was born in 1937 and when he was three his father died of diabetes. Pre-world War II my grandmother worked in Waco, Tx at a munitions factory. I'm not sure what my grandmother and the other women she worked with were making. I've heard her describe it as 'mans work' where you got hot and dirty and chipped fingernails. I was little and didn't pay much attention, as a child. Of course now I wish I could recall every word about every story she told me. She described the coveralls she wore as "denim, hard and stiff, so the hot metal wouldn't burn our skin or our clothes". She rode the bus from Hubbard, Tx every Sunday evening to Waco where she rented a room. Her home Monday-Friday was a boarding house that let rooms to young ladies. My grandmother worked long hours in the factory and sent almost all her money back to her parents in Hubbard. They were taking care of her little boy, Danny. She rode the bus home every Friday night when she got off work and spent the weekends in Hubbard with her parents and her son. She would catch the bus, or a ride with friends who had cars for the return trip back to Waco on Sunday evenings. Later, after the war she learned to repair watches. Her older brother, Burrit helped her get a job in Houston at Corrigans Jewelry store. She bought a little house on Dumble Ave. where she and my dad lived. This was the house where my sister and I would go and visit her when we were little. She repaired watches and re-strung ladies pearls and waited on customers in the jewelry store for many years. She paid for her house and a car and helped my dad pay for his education at Baylor University. I admire her accomplishments, a life well-lived with few regrets; she wasn't a quitter when the going got tough. The only thing to ever get the best of her was Alzheimer's.