Witnesses were not sure but thought that the old lady had finished her day’s work at Jack’s cafeteria where she tended the salad section of foods on display for customers’ selection. She may have taken a detour from her regular course to conduct some business while downtown. With her purse under her arm she was likely to have been on her way to the bus stop and home. Walking in no particular hurry she suddenly felt her purse slip from its place under her arm. She turned to see her purse retreating down the street in the possession of a young thug. “Well now, we can’t have that,” her motions spoke, as she turned in hot pursuit of the thief. Before he realized that he had not picked on a mere patsy, the purse had been retrieved by its owner. The cowardly purse snatcher disappeared among the pedestrians and into a downtown alley.

Something about this story reminded me of my mother in law. It must have been the idea that the old lady may have worked at Jack’s. It didn’t seem like her to be chasing young thieves down the street. She was the grandmother of all my children.

I had always wanted a good mother in law once I married. I told Mary that the reason I married her was to get a good mother in law. Mary said she married me so that she could wear high heels without looking down at her escort.

Enough of the nonsense, let’s get back to the mother in law. I knew her only as a genteel widow, mother of three, who still lived outside of Lima, Ohio where she grew up. 

Her first daughter was married to a mail carrier. Her son was in the Marine Corps. Her younger daughter, the apple of my eye, lived at home. After I married the apple, Mrs. Bess Werff became known to me as Bessie.

Unlike her tall, slender daughter Bessie was maybe 5’3” when she stretched. She had straight gray hair of medium length. She had a middle-aged look and usually alert. Her glasses made it hard to tell the color of her eyes.

Bessie was nearly deaf, scarcely able to hear anything without a hearing aid. She had a dealer who took particular interest in her and was always on the alert to find a better instrument for her. Most of her life she carried a bulky device under her clothes with a wire to a bone conduction receiver behind one ear. Despite her handicap she and I had many an argument, but always friendly.

Bessie enjoyed her grandchildren and they all loved her. They always insisted that Granny spend the night before Christmas with us.

Bessie loved her garden. She raised tomatoes, summer squash, beans, carrots and all sorts of vegetables. She took pride in her flower garden. She had blossoms from early spring until killing frost.

Her son Bob lived with Bessie from the time that he returned from WWII until his marriage several years later. During that interval my family enjoyed frequent visits to Granny’s. Once left to live alone, however, Bessie sold her place and moved to town. With only a small apartment to look after, she had time for other things. She got a job at Jack’s where she worked for several more years.

The day after we heard the story of the hoodlum chase, Bob brought his mother to my house for a visit. She sported a brand new purse that had a shoulder strap. “Ah ha, so you are the thief chaser I heard about,” I said.

“Yes, it will be harder for the next hood to get away with this purse.”

I should have remembered the card we had received in the mail not too long before, that said “Granny’s off her rocker,” and then went on to explain that she had gotten up and gone on a bus trip to the Grand Canyon. I should have realized that anybody with that much gumption would surely have exerted herself to save her purse.