On a gray, wintery Wednesday

When we were kids, my sisters and I often visited my grandmother Vera in Sherburne, New York. She'd drive us around town shaking her steering wheel while singing to us, "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine."

My sisters and I would grow older, recalling trips where she'd offer her off-key voice to sing us this song. It was never a Carnegie performance, but her rendition is embedded in my fondest memories of her impact on my life.

As I look out to the snow to be shoveled and the layers I need to put on to stay warm, I am channeling her music. "Please don't take my sunshine away."