My grandma Nada was an artist. She saw the world through color and form. When I was little she would take me to her favorite Italian restaurant in Chicago. She’d tell me, “the food’s pretty good here but I come for the table cloths.” Each table was adorned with a big sheet of white butcher paper. In her purse she had an array of colored pencils and pens. She would whip them out as soon as we sat down and start to draw. First and foremost a doting grandma, she would teach