Harry-My Dad

My children never knew my dad, their grandfather. He died when they were babies. One time after lamenting that fact my sister said she was glad her children never knew him. Wow!--was all I could manage to utter. People really liked my Dad or really disliked him-apparently even his children. My extended family has always said I am the most like my Dad--ouch! We are/were too "black and white", too opinionated, too harsh, too loud--both without hope of changing until God gave us life in Jesus! That changed everything...

Big Mama

Most grandmothers are "nicknamed" by the first grandchild. Such was the case for Big Mama --my paternal grandmother. When I was a child, we lived next door to her on the family property. In stature, she was a "little" mama--only 4'10". Her hair was short, curly, and white as snow (sometimes with a tint of blue the first few days after her "beauty salon" appointment!). Imagine my surprise when she showed me a picture of herself as a young girl with hair that was long, straight, and black as coal. She was 1/16th "indian" (her words) and Godboldt was her maiden name. There are no stories written down about her childhood, nor do I remember her speaking much about her family. Her weekly routine was finely tuned like a musicians guitar. She woke very early, cleaned her house, ran her errands, ate lunch, took a nap every day in her hammock under the shade tree outside, watched her soap opera, played canasta with her sister on the front porch, made dinner, watched the news and went to bed--early! During the summer we helped her shell "conk" peas by the thousands-and watched her can vegetables for the coming year. She was frugal, adored the local Methodist choir (she sang alto); watched baseball while eating cheese puffs and worshiped Lawrence Welk and his Saturday night entourage. Big Mama would actually shush! you if she heard any noise coming from you during that show. I loved her--I'm not sure she was actually interested in me--but I was grandchild #8 and she was kind and that was just life. She died in 1992 when she was 92. I still miss her!