Marigolds: A Cure for What Ails YA.

My Grandfather was 97 when he died, I called him grandpa Jack. He always had a smile on his face and a good word to say to everyone he met.

On his jacket lapel he wore a marigold pin, I always wondered why, but I just assumed he liked marigolds.

Living in North Carolina, the summers were hot, but the marigolds were plentiful. My grandpa said they like the hot sun. So while I sat sweltering, the marigolds looked as fresh as a spring day.

My grandpa and grandma raised me from the age of three. My mother, Mary, left about that time to try and find work. It was during the Great Depression but somehow we survived.

Franklin Delano Roosevelt was our president at that time. He was in office from 1933 to 1945. He created several programs to help our country recover from the depression and when Pearl Harbor was attacked we joined the war. I was 13.

There were two prisoner of war camps in North Carolina, Camp Butner and Fort Bragg. They held German prisoners of war. My grandma was fearful someone would escape, but grandpa always reassured her that just like the marigolds we would be fine.

In the late summer of 1942 we received a letter from my Mother. She had addressed it to me. Dear Lottie, I am writing to tell you I am getting married and I want you to come and live with me and Frank. We are in San Diego, California. Soon I will be Mrs. Mary Roberts. Lottie, you will love California. We are not far from the beach, Oh, and tell papa that they have huge marigolds here!

I was not so sure I wanted to go clear across the United States and be that far from my grandparents. I decided to talk it over with them and get their advice. We sat at the kitchen table and talked over a tall glass of sweet tea and a slice of fresh baked peach pie. My grandma was a wonderful cook and we were in the kitchen together constantly preparing something or another. She taught me how to make marigold tea and how to pinch off their little heads as they turned brown, so that more flowers would bloom. One day grandma told me that grandpa wore that pin on his lapel to keep Mary close to his heart. She had given it to him the day she left me with them. Grandpa Jack called my mother his little marygold. She had long blonde hair bleached yellow from the North Carolina sun. Grandma said she would play in the marigolds all day making dolls from them just like they were hollyhocks. "In my mind I can still see her playing in the yard." said my grandma. Her cheery disposition could make any dark clouds go away.

After a couple of weeks I decided that I would go to California. Getting reacquainted with my mother would be good for me. A nice change from just exchanging the occasional letter as we had done over the years.

The trip to California was an adventure I will never forget. The bus ride seemed to take an eternity, the longest 3 days of my life. Ofcourse we had to leave from Charlotte and then there were transfers in Texas, but finally I arrived. My Mother was right, California was wonderful. We would go to the beach on the weekends and yes, the marigolds were huge. I spent many years there, but I never forgot about my grandparents and the marigolds.

You see marigolds are a very hearty plant, able to take the heat, good for many things. You can make ointments, teas, and drops that can be taken internally land externally. They can fight infections, east swelling, help with muscle spasms and are a great antioxidant. They even go great in salads.

During the depression my grandma would make up some potion or tea that would "Cure what ails ya" she'd say. So now every time I see a marigold I remember my grandpa and smile. I know that just like that hearty flower I come from a hearty family. A family that can take the heat and survive.