Goodbye, Florence Bertram (1925-2015)

It doesn't seem there are many baby girls named Florence anymore. That makes it a unique name perfectly suited for a unique woman who passed away Wednesday night. My grandmother, Florence Bertram, was 89 years old.

I was her first grandchild, born in 1980. I still recall the many visits to my grandparents' home on Natchez Avenue in Chicago, playing around the house and in the backyard. Grandma and Grandpa, who is still with us, eventually would have six grandchildren to their name.

Grandma was a Cubs fan, but my White Sox-loving family forgave her that. She made a wonderful meatball, fantastic dumplings (which my dad has since picked up), and I am told her potato salad was one-of-a-kind (I have no expertise in the world of mayonnaise-based dishes). She really enjoyed the food at the Sandpiper restaurant and Papa's Pizza in Woodridge, Ill.

Every year for about a decade, Grandma and Grandpa would take me (and just me) to the Chicago Auto Show. It always was a wonderful day. At some point they told me I should go with friends instead of them, but I never did. It just didn't feel right.

Through the 1980s and into the 90s we spent many Sundays at Grandma and Grandpa's house watching Bears games. We even took a trip to Platteville, Wisc., one year for Training Camp. I got Maury Buford's autograph. Yes, he was the punter but he was a Bear!

Grandma always was very supportive of me and my career ambitions. She and Grandpa took time to listen to virtually every show I've ever worked on, even when I was behind the scenes and didn't have my voice on the air. Living in the Chicago suburbs, they made sure the WROK audio stream was bookmarked on their computer so they could tune in. Following my 8th grade graduation, I was given a scrap book filled with pictures of me and newspaper articles and various clippings about my accomplishments in school and on the baseball diamond. That's from where all of these photos come.

I loved playing ping pong in their basement, having sleepovers with my brothers on New Year's Eve, and stopping by virtually every year on Halloween so she could see our costumes. Christmas Eve was spent at Grandma and Grandpa's house and it was a special day for many reasons. Getting everyone around the table to eat and later on to open presents were wonderful moments for all involved.

There was a summer about a decade ago, probably 2007, in which I was the official lawn-mower at Grandma and Grandpa's house. I was cheaper than hiring a service and, I hope, better company as well. At the time I was working nights in Chicago, so it was a unique opportunity to spend part of my day with them once a week to mow, eat lunch, and chat. I'm glad we had that time together a little bit later in life.

Grandma had a weak spot for Fannie May candy, especially Mint Meltaways. All right, she had a weak spot for chocolate in general. But she always had enough to share, of course. Here she is last November, meeting her eighth great-grandchild, my daughter Jillian.

Grandma did not quite make it to Mother's Day, nor to what would have been anniversary #68 with her husband, Bill. I'm so thankful she was at our wedding, that both Alexander and Jillian had a chance to meet her, and that I had so much time to be loved by my grandmother. She was a wonderful woman who lived a wonderful life and long will be remembered.