So what you ask?  Everybody buys bananas.  No big deal. 

    My paternal grandmother Vern loved bananas.  She lived on a dirt farm in Carroll County, TN.  Every two weeks for more than 20 years my father Kelly would make the two hour drive there to visit his parents and take them grocery shopping. 

    Dad would buy his mother bananas every time.  She would never buy them for herself.  My grandmother considered bananas an unnecessary luxury which "cost too much" to that survivor of the Great Depression.   

    Over a period of years my grandmother began to suffer from Alzheimer's disease.  First Vern would get a little confused as to what the day of the week it was.  Or which of her three sons had visited her the week before. 

    Then she could no longer recognize her daughters-in-law.    

    My grandmother then began sneaking out of her house to "go home" and my frantic grandfather would find her wandering down a nearby highway. 

    We eventually had no choice but to place her in a nursing home. 

     Dad still faithfully traveled to Carroll County every two weeks to visit his mother in the nursing home.  And to bring her bananas. 

    There came a time when my grandmother could not even recognize her husband or children. 

    Finally Vern ceased to speak or to react to anything said to her.  My father still continued his visits every two weeks. 

    My grandmother would still automatically eat when food was placed in her mouth.  So Dad would bring her two bananas each visit.  And feed them bit by bit to his mother.   

    Vern's mental fog seemed to lessen a little with that familiar taste.  And a faint expression of pleasure would come to her pale empty face.   

    Silent tears would flow so gently down my father's face as he fed her.  This was the only way Dad had left to tell his mother he loved her. 

    I bought some bananas last week.