We were lucky enough to grow up with a great-grandmother in our lives. “Mamie” was our French connection. She lived to be 100 and, upon her death bed, wanted only an ice cold Southern Comfort Old Fashioned. She played the family matriarch role to a T, imparting wisdom and love (and cash and candy) to the great-grandchildren she was occasionally tasked with wrangling.

Mamie, possibly thinking about hitting someone with her cane.

One day, out of the blue, she taught me a valuable lesson that might seem out of place, coming from a doting old lady. But then, this doting old lady had come of age in South San Fransisco and made bathtub “wine” in a still.

I was about 8 years old, playing with my Hot Wheels in the kitchen when she called me over.

“hold out your hands, Danny” She said in her ancient voice.

I held out…