When I was a child, I would always hear my grandparents talking about going to The Grady. Some people don’t remember things that happened to them when they are really young, but I do. I remember my Dad tossing me up in the air and catching me through giggles all the while my Mother begged him to stop. So, it is easy for me to remember being really young and going with my grandparents to this hospital. My grandfather was a veteran of World War II and later, because he did not have a lot of money, he ended up taking a bus into Atlanta to The Grady. The only thing I remember about the couple of times I was with them was just how much fun it was. There were people coming and going. I held my grandmother’s hand and never worried about what could happen or not. I loved her and how she would wear simple cotton shirt waist dresses. Because my grandfather talked about it so much, I felt like Grady had to be a special place or he would not go there. What I didn’t know at the time was just how sick he was and how great the need was for him. This photo is of the original hospital building. It is down the street from what we know as Grady today and in the stone heading in beautiful script are the words The Grady Hospital.
Last week, I returned to The Grady for the first time since I was a child. Surprisingly, there were parts that seemed familiar. I remembered the lobby of the newer building pictured in this photo. It seemed huge when I was a child. Today, it is still pretty large.
And here’s a small portion of the skyline around Grady. Emory now has a medical school across the street from the hospital and I stood for a very few moments and watched all the future doctors flow out the doors. No doubt they were interns and were off to check on patients.