The Early Years

When I was about four years old my grandmother began to grow frail. I loved her very much and she always let me know that she loved me with all of her heart. My father began to take me to visit her more often and we seemed to have the visits timed to the weekly episodes of "Black Beauty". My father liked that time since she would be absorbed in the show and not too talkative with him.

I would immediately find my way onto her lap and we would sit there in silence until the show ended. She would play with my hair and cuddle me close to her but she didn’t want to miss a word of her favorite show and I understood somehow that she loved both of us! As the credits started to roll at the end of the show she would start to tell me about how she had met my grandfather while she was riding her own horse. It had been very  much like the horse on TV.

She told me about her riding habit and how she knew that my grandfather’s eyes were glued on her before she even turned to look at him. Her eyes seemed to light up and come alive as she told me how warm her heart felt each time he would come to call on her but how she never let on that she knew he was interested until he made the first move. It was her memories that held her attention when "Black Beauty" was on television.  Watching that show let her drift backwards in time to a happier time in her life.

I never had the chance to meet my grandfather or get to know him. A drunk driver killed him when my father was only 17 years old. His death had not ended the love she had felt for him at all.  She made that clear to me each time she spoke of him. She told me about the little things he did while he lived that made her feel loved and needed.

If there was a way to feel like a queen without actually ruling a country then she had found it. For example, each year, on the Fourth of July, the city would celebrate with a block party to bring the entire community together. It was a time of hardship throughout the country.  Jobs were scarce and there was little for most families to laugh about.

Women learned to turn home grown vegetables and whatever they had into meals that would sustain their families while men took any kind of work they could find, even if it was demeaning. This block party helped people to come together and forget some of the troubles for just one day! Each family would bring some kind of covered dish and there were games for children and adults alike. The city would furnish gallons of lemonade and a couple of the financially better off dwellers would furnish a pig to be roasted or some chickens to be cooked.

The highlight, however, was the five-dollar gold piece that would be sitting on top of a greased flagpole. The men would start lining up early in the morning for a chance to win that gold piece. Money was very hard to come by and according to my grandmother, they would keep taking turns until someone finally clutched that coin in his hand and literally fell to the ground!

My grandfather had been the winner of that coin for several years in a row before he died. He always handed the coin directly to my grandmother with one condition on how it was to be spent. It could only be used for her pleasure: something to wear, something to look at or something special that she had her eye on. It could not be used for anything to work with or fix up the house. With six children to feed and little income, my grandmother always put her needs at the bottom of the list and this was my grandfather’s one splurge for his ladylove!

By the time he was successful at getting that coin his hands would be blistered and raw but his face would have a smile a mile wide. A million dollars wouldn’t have meant any more to my grandmother’s heart. He had put all of his heart and effort into getting that coin and that made it  priceless to her! I want that kind of love for myself, we all do deep inside of our hearts!

She spent the rest of her life from the time she was 40 years old until she died at the age of 70, without a man to love her at night or comfort her by day. My grandfather’s death had left her with a lot of responsibility and very little money. She always told me that just thinking about him and the things that they had shared would give her new strength to face each new day.

His memory kept her filling content and happy. She was grateful to have known him and to have felt his love for the short time that they shared! It may not have been a love story to make a movie about but it is one that we all wish we could experience in our life!

The time soon came when my grandmother had to send someone for my father. She had become too ill to stand on her own and had taken to her bed. She wanted him to bring me to her, this memory I am positive about.

Her love has never failed me to touch me yet. She stroked my hair that day and told me how much she loved me. She asked me for a special favor, knowing full well that I would carry it out if I could. It was the first time that I remember hearing the phrase, "And a little child shall lead them".

She asked me to go to church and Sunday school faithfully and to take my parents with me. "Get involved", she said, "they love you so they will get involved too!"

It was her greatest wish to leave this world knowing that her family was safe and that I would grow up knowing right from wrong. She told me I could do anything and I believed her. She made me believe that I had a purpose to serve in the world, that I was important, that I would carry on her legacy. 

She suffered a massive stroke later that same evening and I never heard her speak to me again. Going to that house didn't seem the same after she passed away. I would run to the bed oak bed in the front bedroom expecting her to be there since the television wasn't playing. I couldn't understand why she wasn't there. Death is an abstract to a four year old child, but love is a necessity.

My father’s sister, Idell, starting taking me to Sunday school the very next Sunday. I loved it! Not only was I keeping my promise but I was with other children and people that had known my grandmother. I loved to hear them talk about "the old days."  I tried to get my parents to attend, but alas, they  were not willing to come. At least, not until the Christmas play!

Being the youngest child in my bible class, I was awarded the coveted role of the littlest angel. It had become an every weekend ritual for me to go to my Aunt Idell’s on Friday evening and stay until after church on Sunday. I seldom saw anything of my parents while I was there, another child was on the way and my mother didn’t leave the house unless she had to do something very important.

Neither of them had come to church with me at all and I really didn’t expect them to come to the play. When the big night came for the presentation, my aunt gave me a pep talk about doing my best for myself and not worrying about my parents or anyone else.

I had taken my spot on the stage and  looked out at the people that had filled the pews. I managed to calm myself by looking towards the back of the church and I took a deep breath. I was trying hard to contain my youthful exuberance and not prance from nervousness.

About 15 minutes into the play, while I was looking down at the baby Jesus and talking to the Three Wise Men, I caught a glimpse of my father. He was quietly entering the church and scanning the pews for any vacant seat.

I was so excited that I yelled, "Hi, Daddy! Daddy, I’m up here!"

The whole church applauded and my red-faced father took a seat while he was motioning for me to be quiet and go on with the play. I managed to remember the lines and go on but I could not muster up the serious face that the part called for. I had a smile a mile wide or so the pastor told me afterwards. I can still remember how heavy my chest felt as it swelled with pride that night. My father was there to see ME! I bet I was the happiest little angel that church had ever seen.

It wasn’t until many years later that my father confessed to me that one reason he always avoided church was because he felt like people were staring at him, especially after the war. I know that it's said that sinners always think the sermon is pointed directly towards them but I also know  how much courage it took for him to walk in there and see me that night. My outburst must have been his worst nightmare come to life! He had just smiled proudly and applauded at the end of the play like nothing at all had happened!

As I said earlier, my mother was expecting again, so it was always my father that drove me to my aunt’s house and returned on Sundays to pick me up. I didn't mind that at all since it gave us some time to be alone and just talk about anything that came to mind.

My mother didn’t seem to think that children had important thoughts and she never wanted to listen to me talk about anything. Our conversations were mostly questions and answers: "Are you hungry?" "Yes, I am!"

It was nice to have him to myself for that little bit of time. He always listened to whatever I said like it was the most important thing in the world. He let me ask him questions that he tried to answer even if he had to make something up for me. That could make for problems at times!

One example of that would be the stray dog that put HIM in the doghouse. In those days, people didn’t have money to spay dogs so most female dogs were just strays that struggled to find enough food to eat. No one took a female dog in to keep and my mother was no exception to that rule. She didn’t want any dog at all and she certainly didn’t want a dog that was going to have pups all the time.

So as luck would have it, the family next door to my aunt moved suddenly one weekend and left behind a female dog with a litter of pups. They were old enough to wean and it wasn’t long before all the males had weaseled their way into some child’s heart and found a home.

All that was left of the litter was this poor, little, spotted, hungry, (and yes, I am leading you up to this), female puppy that I started carrying around in my arms. My aunt, taking one look at the bundle, got a sly grin on her face as she said, "You’re taking that home with you, I have a dog."

Thinking about it now, I think she knew how much my mother was going to jump up and down about it and she just took her chance to have some fun!

When my dad showed up that Sunday evening I met him at the car with my new pet in my arms. He had been drinking but wasn’t drunk, just mellow enough to give into me easily! My pouting lips and hound dog eyes won him over quickly.

Into our old car went the pup while my father warned me to keep it hidden a few days to make it look like a stray that just showed up on it’s own. Little did I know he was trying to save his own hide. It must be rough to be caught between the needs of the two women in your life.

I waited for my father to distract my mother long enough for me to sneak the dog inside to the bedroom. I hastily made it a bed in the bottom of my wardroom for lack of a better spot. I couldn’t imagine that she would ever find it there! I just hadn’t counted on the dog being spoiled to my carrying it around.

As soon as I moved out of the dog’s sight it would begin to whine. It didn’t take long for my mother to say, "What is that? Did I hear a pup? Tell me that wasn’t a dog!"

He was able to hold her off about five full minutes before she made it to my room. I will never forget the way she looked under the bed then looked at me. She looked in the closet and then looked at me. Noticing that I was still standing in front of the wardrobe like a stone statue with my hands behind my back and a death grip on the wooden knob, she came over and pushed me to the side! If you could have seen the look on her face when she flung open the wardrobe doors you might have been scarred for life! A child knows her mother’s looks and this one said, "Leave quickly and give her some space."

Within seconds, Dad and I were both at the top of my mother’s poop list! (Trying to be nice here!) "See what you got us into buddy?" my father asked. He eyes had that "I wish I had better sense" look.

The pup went outside, we both got scolded and being the intelligent species that dogs are, the pup started playing up to my mother every time she went anywhere near it. The whole time my mother was chewing my dad and me out for bringing the dog home, she was digging through the refrigerator for scraps and picking an old bowl that the dog could use for water. It didn’t take long, only a few meat scraps later in fact, until the dog was her best friend! Life just isn’t fair sometimes.

One day, several months later, I came home to find the dog gone. I searched everywhere I could think of and spent hours walking and calling her name. I went everyday to the spots I knew she liked thinking that maybe she was lost in the woods just waiting for me to find her and I didn’t want to let her down.

My mother never admitted it, but I think the dog was expecting pups and she had her taken away. At the time, I asked her if she knew where the dog might be and she just calmly accepted it being gone. I wanted to know that the dog was safe somewhere even if it wasn’t with me but I didn’t want to know that she had done something that had broken my heart.

My grandmother’s request had changed my life for sure. I spent a lot of time with my aunt, attended church regularly and learned to pray about things that bothered me. I also learned to pray for things that I "thought" I wanted, like a sibling! We really should be careful about what we pray for since the prayer just might get answered!