March 22, 2012-Goodbye, Granny!

I come 'round here every so often.  This dusty blog of mine.  I found this loitering in my drafts and I was horrified that I never actually posted it. 

For now almost a year has flown by.

This is a post to honor my dear, sweet, cantankerous Granny Smith.

She left us yesterday.  Ninety. Three. Years. Old.

Goodness.

Every single one of those 93 years she was on death's door quick with a 'Baby, I've never hurt so bad.'

A finer lady was never born.

...but thankfully she wasn't perfect.  She was funny, difficult, irreverent, and a pain in the butt.

And I loved every round, square inch of her.

In case you didn't get to know her, below are some conversations of yore.

http://mosugarbritches.blogspot.com/2007/07/heading-south.html
http://mosugarbritches.blogspot.com/2007/08/granny.html
http://mosugarbritches.blogspot.com/2007/09/granny.html
http://mosugarbritches.blogspot.com/2007/11/granny-3.html
http://mosugarbritches.blogspot.com/2008/01/sweet-thoughts.html
http://mosugarbritches.blogspot.com/2008/01/stretching.html
http://mosugarbritches.blogspot.com/2008/08/hey-granny.html
http://mosugarbritches.blogspot.com/2008/10/another-conversation-with-gram.html

Another Conversation with Gram

Sometimes when I get off the phone with her, my head actually spins.  She changes mood faster than a girl changes clothes.

Granny, how are you?

Hi, Babe.  Oh Honey, Granny’s no good.  I haven’t been sleeping.

I’m sorry.  You OK?

Oh I’ve got the acid reflux.  I wake up and my chest is on fire.  I’ve got medicine, but it ain’t no count.

I hear ya.

You scared me awhile ago when I called the home to talk to yer Mommy and you answered.  It’s not like you to be there in the middle of the week.  I just knew something was wrong.

No, It ‘s her birthday and I thought I should go see her.  I got off work a few hours early.

Well it worried me.  But you know your poor old Grandpa used to tell me I worry about things that will never happen.  (Sniffle)  I sure wish I could see your Mommy one more time before I leave this Earth.  But, I know I won’t.  (Sniffle) I’m just too old.  But I won’t complain.  God’s been good to me.  I won’t complain.

It’ll be fine, Honey.

My stomach just hurts me so bad.  I wish I could get my bowels to move.  They seem to be stopped up.

Uh, OK.  Have you taken anything?

I try but it makes me sick at my stomach.  Do you still have problems with your bowels moving, Babe?

Huh?

You know when you were little you had a terrible time.  You’d sit on the pot and cry.

Really?  I uh…

And then you’d pass a stool so big I’d have to cut it up with a coat hanger to get it to flush.

Jesus God, Granny.  You did not!  Are you sure that wasn’t Bubby?

No, Babe it was you.  I told you not to eat all that cheese.

I don’t believe a word you’re saying.

Good, cuz I’m storyin’.  Ha!  Gotcha.  But Babe you did eat too much cheese.

Granny I’m going to kick ya!

Maybe it’ll help my bowels move.

Hey, Granny.

How you doin', Babe,

I'm great, Granny, how are you? 

Oh, I'm better.  Just trying to stay cool.

Are you succeeding? 

Well, I got the winder fans agoin'.  I guess I'll be OK.  I just ask the good Lord to give me strength and so far he's come through.  How's yer Mommy?

She was asleep in her chair today, so I just dropped off her smokes and treats and took off.

You know yer Mommy's cousins are in town this weekend.  I wish they'd stop and see her but I don't think they will.

It's just as well, Honey.  It would only embarrass her if she realized.

I know it.  Didn't you have a birthday?

You know I did, you rotten thing.  You give me grief about it every time I call.

I know it.   You've almost caught up to yer old Granny.

I have not!  I'm going swat you, Old Gal!

You come on!  I'd love to see you try.  But I don't know if I could take you. I've lost a lot of weight you know.

Have ya?

I'm down to 180.  You wouldn't recognize Granny.  I've always been so big.

Honey, you're only 5 foot tall.  

I know it, but I'll swan there's not that much left of me.  I ain't got strength for nothing more than watching television.

Did you watch the Olympics?

Nah, I don't care about any of that sports stuff.

If it ain't wrestling, you ain't watching?

You know I don't even watch my soap operas anymore.

You're just storyin' now!

I'm not either.  When I was in the hospital this past winter with the 'noomonie' I got my fill and haven't turned 'em on since.

Well, what are you watching?

Jerry Springer.

Oh God have mercy, Granny!  What are you watching that crap for?  There's not a bit of truth in it.

Now, Honey I know better.  Most of those girls have no 'eye-dee' who the father of their baby is and that just ain't right!

You're better off watching the Olympics.  They're going to be held in Canada in two years.

Honey, you know Granny may not be around in two years.

If you are, you wanna go?

Tee Hee!  You bet, Babe.  You and me'll finally get to go to Canada. 

Stretching

Hi, Granny.

Well, it’s about time you ‘Hi, Grannyed’ me! I’m mad at you.

I know.

It’s been three weeks since you called me.

Yes, Ma’am.

Why do you want to go and hurt Granny that way? What have I ever done to have you treat me that way?

Yes, Ma’am. I know.

It just hurts Granny so bad when you do me like that.

Honey, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’ve just been…I’m working a second… I at least…Bubby never ca…You’re right... It was thoughtless of me and I’ll try not to do it again. Would it help if you called me collect whenever you wanted?

I’ve got nationwide on my cell phone. But, Baby, I don’t call nobody. Besides, you’re never home.

… you’re right.

I’m sorry, Baby. Granny’s just not feeling good. I turned 90 you know.

Yes, I know.

How’s your Mommy? Now I want you to tell me the truth. Good or bad.

The truth? She’s holding her own. She’s not going to die tomorrow, but she’s going downhill. Her Rebif isn’t working like it should so I’m having the staff check and see if they can up her dosage. Her eyes are getting worse, it’s harder for her thoughts to connect, and you can’t read a thing she tries to write.

That’s what I thought. Oh I’d love to go see her, but I can’t go nowhere-and she can’t come see me. …but you can! Why haven’t you come see me, Babe? Granny just loves you so much. You were my first Grandbaby and, I don’t know, something about you just took a hold of me.

Yes. Ma’am.

What have I ever done to have you treat me this way?

How’s the weather, Granny?

Oh, Babe the sun is shining and it’s nearly 75. It’s just beautiful!

Yeah, it’s warm here too. It’s been a nice drive to Mom’s today.

Babe, did I tell you cousin Reedy’s got cancer?

No.

She’s only got a couple of months. Lung cancer, but she keeps smoking away. I call her about onced a week to check on her. She lives way over to Portia now so I can’t go see her.

Wait, You call her?

Yeah. She’s hard to catch, but I keep trying until I get her. She hardly every returns my calls though.

Granny, she’s probably resting.

Maybe, but it just hurts Granny. What have I ever done to have her treat me this way?

…sigh. I don’t know, Honey. I really don't know

Sweet Thoughts

Excuse me, Ma’am. Do you carry buttermilk?

I’m standing in the middle of menswear, so this was an odd inquiry. But, since I shop as well as work here, I had a quick answer.

Sure do. Over in dairy.

As she wheeled her way toward groceries, I went back to my folding and thought of my Grandpa.

Doesn’t everyone think of their Grandfather when they are asked about buttermilk?

No?

Oh.

Folding shirts and repackaging boxer shorts is therapeutic in a way. It keeps your hands busy and lets your mind wander.

So you’re welcome to wander with me for awhile if you have a mind to.

Lester Otis has been gone 12 years or so now, but through the course of his 80 years whenever he wanted a glass of milk he always asked specifically for ‘sweet’ milk-lest Granny bring him buttermilk by mistake. It didn’t matter that there hadn’t been a drop of the stuff in house for years, Grampa asked for ‘sweet’ milk.

He’d have a glass with supper and then for a snack later in the evening he’d take leftover cornbread (which was prepared everyday) and crumble it up in a big glass of ‘sweet’ milk and eat it with a spoon. This is seriously good eatin’, Yu’ns.

I kid you not.

Grampa also chewed tobacco. He chewed on the sly. He’d take Bubby and me fishing ‘down to the spill-way’ and we’d stop in the store and get a rope. We were, of course, sworn to secrecy. While we fished, he’d cut a big chaw off his rope and then without closing his knife, he’d pick up a tree branch and start carving a walking stick out of it.

I still have one of my Grampa’s walking sticks.

I got a bee sting one summer and he spit tobacco juice on it. It stopped stinging. Immediately. I stopped gagging. Eventually.

He didn’t smoke much. Granny was the big cigarette smoker, but he would blow cigarette smoke in my ear whenever I had an earache. Immediately after this, he would warm up a teaspoon of ‘sweet’ oil with Granny’s lighter and then pour it in my ear.

He also made up the word ‘Horsefeathers’.

Oh yes he did!

This is a great word to use instead of Bulls#@t.

Grampa, let Bubby and me go to the café and loaf with you this morning. I promise we’ll be quiet.

Horsefeathers!

Lester Honey, He said the check was in the mail.

He’s full of Horsefeathers!

See?

When I got older I realized there was an old movie with that word as the title.

Sigh.


That’s when I made the discovery.

My Grandfather knew Graucho Marx! Isn’t that the coolest?

One hot, sticky Arkansas night, we were outside fighting mosquitoes and trying to stay cool. Gramps was whittling, I was reading, Granny was watering her flowers, and Bubby had made a make-shift squirt gun out of an empty mustard bottle. He was busy drowning ants.

Grampa made some covert motions to Bubby.

Granny was bent over in her flower bed. Her ample backside hiked in the air. Bubby took his mustard bottle squirt gun and squeezed a stream of cold water right up Granny’s housedress.

Good times.

She screamed like the hounds of hell were after her and chased Bubby around the yard with her hose.

Grampa just sat there laughing and shaking his head.

Now, Son. Why’d you wanna go and do a thing like that for? You shouldn’t pester your Granny like that.

He was an ornery cuss.

…and right now I just miss him like crazy. I’ve got that little hard knot in the middle of my throat.

He drank ‘sweet milk’.
He ate ‘redneck cereal’.
He spat on us.
He got us into trouble.

He coined the word ‘Horsefeathers’.

…and you’ll never convince me otherwise.

Granny 3

Hi, Granny.

Hi, Babe. How's your Mommy?

She was in a great mood today!

Oh, good. That makes me worry less.

How are you?

Better than I was.

Have you been sick?

Well, Hon. I've been constipated. I haven't had a good BM in 10 days.

Ew! That's no good.

I know. But I just now got some relief, so I'm feeling better.

Well that is good to hear.

Well you know on top of that, I've got me a case of the hemorrhoids.

Oh, Granny. I've never had that problem.

Well, you thank the sweet Lord for that Honey, cuz it hurts like the devil. The doctor gave me some medicine, but only Preparation H works for me.

Well, I'm glad something does.

You know your poor old Grandpa used to call it 'Precious H'.

Well, I can see how he would see it that way. What's new Granny?

Your Uncle Hippy went out on the truck last week.

Oh, he did. How is he? Does he still drive with 'Uncle' Terry?

Oh, yeah. He also picks up with your 'Uncle' Mike. All three of 'em went out last week together. Do you remember Teri? 'Uncle' Mike's wife?

Oh, Gosh yeah. You're talking about 'little' Teri?

Well, she ain't little no more. She's 300 pounds if she's an ounce.

No!

Yes! She came by last week and told me she'd gotten a boob job.

'Little Teri'? What on God's earth for?

I guess she wanted to take the attention away from her ass. She's lost some weight, but I'll swan it ain't enough to count. How's the weather up your way?

Huh? What? Oh, yeah. Um, well I'm looking at my car thermometer right now and it says 76 degrees and the trees are all orange and gold.

You know me and you poor old Grandpa used to take a walk out on the trail every Fall. We loved to look at the trees. Yep, every Fall and every Spring.

You miss him don't you , Granny?

You don't know how much, Babe. I've gotta go. You tell your Mommy to call me. I love you, Babe.

...I love you too, Granny.

Granny 2

How are you today, Granny?

Oh, hey Baby, you caught me asleep.

I'm sorry. I'll let you go.

No I was just dozing in my chair. How's yer Mommy?

She's depressed today. She started in again on how she wishes she'd never sold her house and how she hates it at the home and how she doesn't understand why the good Lord doesn't just take her home. You know, the usual. So, in that light, I guess she's OK.

Well, good. I know she's a trial, Babe, but you're doing the right thing.

Whatever. Anyway, how are you feeling?

I'm doing pretty good. I kind of dread Monday. You know what Monday is, don't you?

(I do, but I let her tell me, anyway) What?

Your poor old Grandpa would have been 92 had he lived.

Really? Wow 92.

Yeah, all I have left now are my memories.

I know it, Granny. But at least you have those. Where's Uncle Hippy?

Oh, he went to town to get me some Kentucky Fried Chicken for lunch.

Good stuff. What's for dessert? You know I try to make your banana pudding, but it just doesn't taste the same.

Oh, Baby, you know Granny can't cook no more.

I know, but I remember every time we came to your house for lunch, we'd have ham, potato salad and banana pudding.

You remember that?

I do. It was the best.

Well, Baby I better go. Your uncle just got back. I hope he remembered the slaw. Bye, Baby.

Bye, Granny.

Granny

I talked to my Granny last Sunday. I call her every week after I visit Prissy, her daughter, in ‘the home’. Yes, Prissy is in a nursing home. But, I really don’t have the wherewithal to discuss it today.

Granny is pushing 90 and she’s sharp as a tack. That being said, she’s also been on death’s door my entire 38 years. She had constant aches, pains, and ‘spells’. She currently lives with my uncle in Arkansas and I can honestly say the only thing wrong with the woman is old age and orneriness.

We all should be so lucky.

Granny is as tall as she is big around. She used to waddle through the house with one hand on her hip and the other on her forehead and make this “Sheeyew” kind of sound followed by “My head’s just a swimming. I’ve got to sit down.”

She’d then sit down in her towel-covered, pea-green Naugahyde rocking chair on the screened-in front porch and drink sweet tea with a straw out of an old peanut butter jar and wipe herself down with the wet washcloth she always kept in a Ziploc bag.

She had these double-knit housedresses in crazy 70’s patterns that she wore every day for years. She had one particularly ugly one with yellows and golds and greens. It was her favorite. She knew I hated it and therefore wore it every time she knew I was coming.

So, on the drive home last weekend…

How are you doing today, Granny?

Awe, Babe, I’m just no good. Granny’s been sick. I’m sick at my stomach and my head’s been swimming all day. It’s just so hot I can’t get any air. How’s yer Mommy, Baby?

She had a good day.

You know I just worry myself to death about her.

I know, Granny Honey, but she’s doing really well today. She was playing Bingo when I left.

…begins to cry, “Oh, I’d love to come see her, but Granny’s getting old and I probably won’t see her again this side of Heaven-Your Mommy and poor old Grandpa.

I know, Granny.

…sniffs. You’ve got a birthday coming up next week don’t you, Babe?

Yep

How old are you going to be? 60?

No, Granny, I’ll be…

Wait a minute. 60? Do what?

Granny made a funny.

60? Why, you listen to me, Old Gal. I’ll come down there and kick you ‘till your dead!

Well, I’ll say worse than that if it means it’ll get you down here to see me! I gotcha didn’t I! You get down here and me and you’ll go to Canada.

Ah, Canada.

When I was a teen, Granny and I did something together that we both knew Prissy wouldn’t approve of. (She got the nickname Prissy for lots of reasons, believe me) I don't even remember now what it was-she probably bought me some music Prissy said I shouldn't have. Granny just said that we better not let Mommy find out or we’d both have to move to Canada. It just struck us both as so funny. We stood in the gravel driveway and doubled over laughing. Grandpa had to come out and check on us.

Well, Babe, Granny’s going to let you go, Raslin’ (not to be confused with wrestling) is coming on.

Take care, Granny and I’ll talk to you next week.

Heading South

A part of my raising took place in rural Arkansas. Some of my people still live there, including my Granny, so I still consider it 'down home'. One habit I picked up there is, no matter if I've known you for a second or for years, I'm going to call you 'Babe', 'Sweetheart', 'Honey', or 'Darlin''.

"Would you like me to push the cart to your car for you, Ma'm?"
"No thanks, Babe. I've got it."

"How are you, Sugarbritches?"
"Fat and Sassy, Darlin', what's up with you?"

"Mrs. Britches, would you tell Big that Bill called?"
"You bet, Sweetheart."

This works out great especially when I can't recall your name from Adam. It sets up an air of familiarity. It's a problem because I've realized that some people hate it. It's too much familiarity.

I always liked it. I guess that's why I picked it up. It never felt offensive or patronizing-just kind of warm and friendly.

I'm bringing it up because I have to travel to Prattville, Alabama next week for work. I'm going to get 'Ma'med' and 'honeyed' into a frenzy.

Somehow, those words coming form the lips of a southern man makes me glad to be a woman.

Not very feminist is it.