1.13.2005
For You Grandma...
"Silver grey hair neatly combed in place | There were four generations of love on her face | She was so wise, no surprise passed her eyes | She'd seen it all..." ~ Dianne Reeves, Better Days
I never had a grandfather. Both my parent’s fathers passed long before my birth. But I did have a grandma. Grandma was the type of woman who said what she meant, and meant what she said. She could careless if age somehow made you grown, if you sassed her you’d bess duck or else catch your death.
She was a real grandma. The kind that sat on her porch sipped her lemonade and waved at every car that passed by. The kind that always offered you something the moment you stepped onto her property. "You hungry? Thirsty? Go on in there and get you somethin’ to eat..." She was the kind of grandma you could hug and hug and hug and never get enough. And though age had long claimed her as it’s own you would be hard pressed to tell. The woman would tend her garden, keep her house, get around sometimes faster than her great-great-grand’s and quick to pull that shotgun from the vestibule to scare off the deer creeping just a little too close to her collards.
The memories are abundant, but I remember this one time I was at her house visiting with my mother. It was about two o’clock in the afternoon and I was sitting on the porch swinging, taking in the abundance of boredom that came along with a trip to Dry Branch Georgia when a rattlesnake made its way to the porch. Now, anyone who knows me knows that I have this serious phobia of snakes. I’m talking I can’t even watch their slimy asses on television phobia. I’m talking if I visit the zoo and there’s a reptile section chances are I’m ret’ to go phobia. So when this rattlesnake decided to make its appearance known I wasn’t a happy camper. I screamed to the top of lungs, jumped up into the swing and tried my best to climb on top of that porch! My mother and grandmother came rushing to see what was going on and ran smack into the rattler, who now because of my screams had begun to curl and prepare for battle. In one swift swoop Grandma grabbed the shotgun pushed my mother out of the way aimed, and fired. In retrospect I believe the sound of the barrel going off scared me more than the snake, but at the same time I was glad he was dead; and for the rest of the trip enjoyed the enchanting boredom of Dry Branch from behind the locked screened door on the front porch.
I’ll never forget that day, just like I’ll never forget her. It’s been three years since her passing and still it seems the family has not fully adjusted. There was something about her energy...her spirit that seemed to hold everything and everyone together, and now that she’s gone things just aren’t the same. When I visit Georgia I often ask my moms to take me by her house, because for so many years going to Georgia meant going to see grandma. It meant sitting on that red and white porch and swinging in that one chair everyone fought over. It meant getting that long warm hug. It meant stories and laughter and memories that would pass on from generation to generation. And now, it’s different, and I’m not sure I like it.
Today had she lived she would have been 95 years old. The family would have been gathering together to honor her most magnificent achievement. Her heart would most likely be overflowing with pride and joy at the attention a simple colored woman from Dry Branch Georgia could achieve just by being the best woman she could possibly be, and she would be absolutely right. For that she was, in so many, many ways.
I miss her. We all miss her. And today we still honor our mother, our grandmother, our friend and neighbor, Mrs. Josie Mae Glover.
Happy Birthday Grandma and do enjoy those better days!
Loving you always, your grandson, Chris...
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I never had a grandfather. Both my parent’s fathers passed long before my birth. But I did have a grandma. Grandma was the type of woman who said what she meant, and meant what she said. She could careless if age somehow made you grown, if you sassed her you’d bess duck or else catch your death. She was a real grandma. The kind that sat on her porch sipped her lemonade and waved at every car that passed by. The kind that always offered you something the moment you stepped onto her property. "You hungry? Thirsty? Go on in there and get you somethin’ to eat..." She was the kind of grandma you could hug and hug and hug and never get enough. And though age had long claimed her as it’s own you would be hard pressed to tell. The woman would tend her garden, keep her house, get around sometimes faster than her great-great-grand’s and quick to pull that shotgun from the vestibule to scare off the deer creeping just a little too close to her collards.
The memories are abundant, but I remember this one time I was at her house visiting with my mother. It was about two o’clock in the afternoon and I was sitting on the porch swinging, taking in the abundance of boredom that came along with a trip to Dry Branch Georgia when a rattlesnake made its way to the porch. Now, anyone who knows me knows that I have this serious phobia of snakes. I’m talking I can’t even watch their slimy asses on television phobia. I’m talking if I visit the zoo and there’s a reptile section chances are I’m ret’ to go phobia. So when this rattlesnake decided to make its appearance known I wasn’t a happy camper. I screamed to the top of lungs, jumped up into the swing and tried my best to climb on top of that porch! My mother and grandmother came rushing to see what was going on and ran smack into the rattler, who now because of my screams had begun to curl and prepare for battle. In one swift swoop Grandma grabbed the shotgun pushed my mother out of the way aimed, and fired. In retrospect I believe the sound of the barrel going off scared me more than the snake, but at the same time I was glad he was dead; and for the rest of the trip enjoyed the enchanting boredom of Dry Branch from behind the locked screened door on the front porch.
I’ll never forget that day, just like I’ll never forget her. It’s been three years since her passing and still it seems the family has not fully adjusted. There was something about her energy...her spirit that seemed to hold everything and everyone together, and now that she’s gone things just aren’t the same. When I visit Georgia I often ask my moms to take me by her house, because for so many years going to Georgia meant going to see grandma. It meant sitting on that red and white porch and swinging in that one chair everyone fought over. It meant getting that long warm hug. It meant stories and laughter and memories that would pass on from generation to generation. And now, it’s different, and I’m not sure I like it.
Today had she lived she would have been 95 years old. The family would have been gathering together to honor her most magnificent achievement. Her heart would most likely be overflowing with pride and joy at the attention a simple colored woman from Dry Branch Georgia could achieve just by being the best woman she could possibly be, and she would be absolutely right. For that she was, in so many, many ways.
I miss her. We all miss her. And today we still honor our mother, our grandmother, our friend and neighbor, Mrs. Josie Mae Glover.
Happy Birthday Grandma and do enjoy those better days!
Loving you always, your grandson, Chris...
