There's a good chance you've never heard of Marjorie Heyne (pronounced high-knee, and yes, many a joke has been made). She's just another little old widow living out the rest of her days in the house where she raised her family. She turned 90 years old this week, and she's my last living grandparent.

Everyone has grandparents. No matter if you've ever met them, you have them. Most people have positive thoughts about the parents of their parents. I have always had mixed reviews (as they've had with me). My first grandmother (on my Dad's side) died when I was less than ten years old, and there are just little wisps of memories for her. Her husband hung at the end for dear life and suffered for it. I have memories of visiting his cattle and getting playfully poked with his cane, but I also remember the bewildered man fading in & out at the end of his days. Everyone must let go eventually, and he finally departed my sophomore year of high school. That side of the family left me with many questions about the land I lived in at the time called New Mexico, and the best legacy I have left to them is that I still live and breathe in their chosen state. So much for the Jungle side of grandparents.

My mother's side of grandparents had a different and more traditional style of living, and they have lived in Kansas since the day I was born in their state. My grandfather was a wheat geneticist & teacher at Kansas State University during my early years, but he retired when I was quite young. For many years, I thought he was a farmer because he spent most of his time in the massive small town garden he maintained. He was a stoic man of German decent, embracing the Christian ethic of sobriety & family. Always in good shape and keen thought, I assumed Grampa Heyne would live into his 90s, but a car accident ended his life at the moment when I was just beginning to seek advice from him. I had just graduated college and was quite confused about many things (I had started writing columns on-line for no good reason!). I had written a three page letter to him the week before the accident, and he'd read it the day before he died.

And then there was only Grandma Heyne. She is the only grandparent to survive to my adulthood, and really, the only one I had the opportunity to speak to in a halfway mature manner. She's the only one I actually got to know. When Grandpa Heyne died, I assumed it wouldn't be long before Grandma followed. I couldn't imagine how his sidekick would ever get on without him. It just shows how people can surprise you at any age.

Grandma had herself a late-life wake up call, and suddenly, it was all up to her what she would do. She shunned the trend to retreat to the nursing home, staying in the house where I'd always known her to live. She got herself into movable shape, and with the assistance of her children, she has been able to have the basics of living done for her.

I can't say Grandma Heyne was my favorite grandparent growing up. She always picked on me for one reason or another, usually beginning with my hair which was frequently shaggy. I went to her 90th Birthday Celebration with a close shaved head, and she said she missed the wave in my hair. Too long, too short, rarely just right. That sums up Grandma's thinking on much of my lifestyle.

For all her feistiness, I knew that she was just being honest with me. Whether I thought she was right or not, she always made me reconsider my ways or at least defend my stance. Like most grandmothers, she hopes for the traditional life for me. That's always started with finding a mate. The first thing she asked me when I got to her house for her birthday party was 'Do you have any girlfriends?' and I was proud to reply 'Just one, Grandma. Just one.' It's the best present I could give the 90-year old lady.

We've given each other advice over the years, and we even took some of it to heart. My grandpa left her with a decent amount of money, and she felt she must donate to several causes. I told her to forget national groups she gave money to (like the Republican Party) and donate to local & community projects instead. Give to the place she's lived in since I've known her. Sure enough, she did.

These days, Grandma Heyne is on oxygen. She doesn't leave the house much. There's little chance anyone in the Kansas town she's lived in for over half a century will even see her. She's just a little old woman in the middle of Kansas.

It doesn't seem like much, but at the celebration, her four children (all three spouses), nine out of ten grandchildren (all six spouses), and four great-grandchildren came to see & praise her. For being a simple old lady, she sure had a lot of people who wanted to be with her as she became a nonagenarian. Maybe there's something to be said for all that tradition she keeps pushing on me. Maybe she knows a thing or two about life.

Happy 90th Birthday, Grandma Heyne.

Chris Jungle is still eating the massive amount of cookies he took home from the celebration.