My grandmother came in 1920 to a Newfoundland outport as a war bride from Perthshire, Scotland. With her came a trunk full of books by her favourite Scottish writers. She loved to read aloud from them and, as a very young child, I was her best audience. I loved to sit beside her and listen to the poetry of Robert Burns and the novels of Sir Walter Scott. I understood almost nothing but their words and her voice were like magic to me. In my home I was accustomed to considerable correction and criticism. At Nannie's house I could do no wrong. Her love and devotion nurtured me and I treasured her. She had a saying, used often, to express her approval and pride in whatever I did. "That just warms the cockles of my heart," she would say. I knew then that I had made her happy even if the words were almost as strange as those of Burns and Scott. One day I asked my mother, "What are cockles?" "Oh," she said, "They're little sea creatures. Some people like to eat them but I think they are disgusting." I was alarmed by this revelation but chose not to pursue it with mother. The next time I went to Nannie's house I waited for the inevitable, "Well, that does warm the cockles of my heart." "Nannie," I asked, "how did the cockles get in your heart? Did you eat them?" A look of surprise and then she laughed and pulled me into her arms. "The kind you eat are not the kind that are in my heart. Some words have more than one meaning." That was one of those moments we have, especially as children, when we are shocked by a discovery. It is as if our thinking changes gears and we're off on a new path. Nannie and I talked about words with more than one meaning and she said, "Every time you come to visit I'll have a word for you with different meanings. Would you like that?" "Oh, yes," I replied. "Great, and maybe one day you will bring me one of those words." The day I brought my first word to her, bark, b-a-r-k, there was much excitement and molasses cookies too and the cockles of both our hearts were warmed. I credit my grandmother with my love of the English language and the printed word Helena MacLean Dartmouth, NS   Submitted By: NULL