This is a photo of my grandmother (on the right, a picture of my mom, on the left, and me below). The date was December, 1955 – I was not quite two years old. The auto featured was either a 1949 or 1950 Plymouth. The best car my dad ever owned – according to him.
My maternal grandmother was born on February 29th, 1896. Her birthdate was the subject of many a small town Oklahoma newspaper article – such as – in 1980, Viola Abel able to vote after all these years – hahaha…
My grandmother was born in Missouri, but was raised in Minnesota. Her father was a physician. She always hated the idea that she would be buried in the red dirt of north central Oklahoma, but that was what happened, despite her long years of dreading. She claimed to have the best of lifes – she recalled riding in horse-drawn buggies, but lived long enough to see a man land on the moon.
I have been thinking a lot about my grandmother today, and I am not sure why. She passed away in the winter of 1991. I was a pall bearer at her funeral. The man who is the head of the Sonic Drive-In Corporation was in attendance – my grandmother would have been proud of that.
My grandmother was born at the end of the Victorian era. Health and well-being in her time were not to be taken for granted. I recall that when me or my sister would put our arms out of the rolled down back-seat windows, she’d nearly have a fit – as our arms could be taken off by other autos. She was very anxious about health – all of the time. She was sharp as a tack until about her 93th birthday – after that she was pretty demented.
When my senior high english class read the book “To Kill a Mocking Bird” – I was sure the neighborhood described by Harper Lee, was where my grandmother lived – even though it was Oklahoma, rather than Alabama.
My maternal grandmother was a life-long Republican. To describe how hopeless in this regard she was, she thought Richard Nixon had “a nice smile”.
I miss my grandmother. I hope her soul rests in peace…
8 responses to “My Grandmother”
I would be happy to have my wits until 93.
My mother’s father was a politician. He was the mayor of a small Oklahoma town. He also worked for the railroad in addition to his city job.
My mom’s dad was from Texas and he was a Democrat. I inherited those phenotypic traits from my mom’s side…
I haven’t had a living grandparent for 30ish years. I wasn’t finished getting their advice and stories. I still need them!
I never knew a grandfather as they were gone before I had the opportunity. Through stories often repeated it seems I knew my maternal grandfather, but it’s only through others that I know ‘of him.’
I was closest to my maternal grandmother who was the kindest, most giving and selfless person I’ve ever known. I will never be the grandmother she was, but trying is a lofty goal!
My grandmother moved from Arkansas to Oklahoma in a covered wagon strapped onto a railroad flat car. They had to kill all the chickens and my uncle always talked about the bushel basket filled with fried chicken they ate along the way. She and I stayed up overnight to watch Armstrong and Aldren land on the moon.
A couple of weeks later they ran “Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner” on the movies. Grandmother got up about 20 minutes into it and walked out. She thought the idea of a white woman marrying a black man was just too preposterous a premise.
My Mom is 98 years old and still has her cookies. Her vision is bad but she gets out her magnifying glass and works the Jumble and crossword puzzles in the newspapers. She listens to audio books and watches PBS religiously.
I get a lot of repeated stories. But she’s had an incredible number of remarkable experiences over the years.
This is the time of year to remember things of the past. We move into a new year and remember the old ones. Hope I remember the lessons they taught! There are enough new mistakes and no need to repeat old ones.
Thanks for remembering your Grandmother, Iggy! You reminded me to remember mine too. 🙂
Hey, Max Grobnic, care to stipulate why you were kicked off of the WE Blog. One has to be a pretty big stinker to be excluded from that pig sty. Come clean, Max, if you can…
I think “Max” was and remains one of James McCluer’s nics.
That’s how I pursue it anyway.
Looking over the WEBlog from last night, James was with the only company he HAD on new years eve.
His many nics.