I love colloquialisms. They are what give flavor to the language amd make it ours. They are prime examples of the difference between speaking English and American. I realize the English have their own colloquialisms. Work with me here.

My grandmother brought me up on them. She and Grandad lived with us throughout much of my early childhood in an apartment that was attached to our house. They took their meals with us and spent most of their time with the family and I truly enjoyed spending time with them, even as a kid. Granny didn't have a lot to say but was fond of punctuating conversations with generic phrases that defined all events in familiar terms with just a few words.

If anything sudden or unexpected occurred, whether it be a slammed door, the announcement of a news bulletin coming up on TV, or the timer going off on the oven, Granny would drop her embroidery hoops into her lap, grab the arms of her rocking chair, widen her eyes like saucers and blurt, "We'll all be murdered in our beds!"

Despite extended questioning I never did learn the source of her macabre warning or why it was her response of choice to unexpected developments. To the best of my ability to ascertain, nobody in the family had ever been murdered in their beds. My best speculation suggested that if whatever ultimately befell us was not as horrible as being murdered in our beds then it could be perceived as relatively good news.

Pretty thin, I know.

Whatever the truth, Granny took the secret with her and, in anticipation of your question, went peacefully in her sleep with no evidence of foul play at the age of 89.

If she did not hear or understand something someone said she would cup a hand to her ear, squint irritably, and ask in her flinty voice, "Who shot the tail off of what?" Again, I never did discover the origins of that response. I always suspected there was a family story that went with it but I never got her to share. I suspect it had been around so long she had forgotten what it was.

Of course the family picked it up and I recently found I can confuse my own daughter by responding the same way to her.

Grandad had some great colloquialisms that he worked into his stories as well though they were not as solidly seeded in non sequitur realms as were Grandma's.

He once described a rich man he knew in White City, Kansas as having "enough money to burn a wet mule." I was never sure how much that was but visualizing the metaphoric task at hand. I imagined it would require several bushels at least.

Grandpa was also fond of self deprecating humor. In his later years his memory would sometimes cheat him when trying to recall a story. Other times I think he feigned a weak memory just to have fun at my expense.

I remember his efforts to tell me about a "picture show" he'd taken Grandma to see the week before. He said "You shoulda seen this one, Sunny Jim." (He never called me anything else.) "I don't remember what it was but it must have been pretty good because I remember it."

Then he'd cackle a laugh that God licenses only for ornery old men who don't wear their dentures.

Know what Grandpa? I remember you too.