I remember when I was young watching Power Rangers on a Saturday morning as I ate my cereal in front of the television screen. I remember thinking to myself "Wow! I want to be just like the red ranger!" I spent many days emulating what I saw: acting out acts of heroism, saving the "town" from "villains of unknown terrors," etc. But, like most trends, the infatuation faded and my hero had disappeared. But my real hero had been there all along. She had been there since the day I was born. She watches over me (and the rest of the county for that matter) and supervises my growth. Who is she? She is my grandmother. Now, everyone needs a woman like her: Strong, beautiful, loving, generous, tolerant, devoted, optimistic, and hilarious. There is no parallel to my Babsie. Superwoman does not even come close. Babsie makes sure that I do not go down the dark path my sister before me had taken, or our uncle before us, or the countless relatives stuck in the pit of addiction. She is the woman who cooks for the entire neighborhood, has parties at least once a month, works from five in the morning to after dark, makes sure she eats healthy foods and exercises, and she is the one who spoils her grandchildren with material things and endless amounts of love. She is the pillar of strength on which I lean. Shortly after her father's death, her own husband died and shortly after that her youngest son died, making my father an "only" child. Her oldest granddaughter was a victim to heroine--though she is recovering from her addiction now--her second granddaughter suffered from depression for nearly six months, her brother became an alcoholic, and her best friend is now on her death bed with two types of cancer. Though all of this is a blow to her heart, she perseveres and provides for her family of thousands of friends and her devoted relatives. Babsie is an angel in disguise and anyone blessed enough to be in her prescence knows what it is like to be embraced by an angel.