We lived around the corner from Nana Claire when I was little. We used to mow her lawn with a push mower, which was fun and only a little dangerous. She paid for yard work in treats. She was kind, funny, and tough. No popsicle until she approved your work. We spent hours playing in her house, a wonderland of knick knacks and treasures. She was quirky. When there was a storm, she made us go in the basement. As kids we didn't understand, but she was just trying to keep us safe. I lost a tooth at her house and she gave me medicinal brandy. She always called me Brigadoon, which is not my name, but a fictional Irish town that only appears every 100 years. I never knew if she couldn't remember my name or she just liked hers better. Some things were just going to be done her way. I came to cherish that nickname. Nana Claire had a way of making everyone feel special and loved.