Day 22: A Day With the Family I'll Never Forget
This is one which is
difficult to answer because of my whole family dynamic. The whole family is rarely together at one
time, and times when it does happen (especially if it includes my mom) it ends
up being disastrous.
So I don’t want to dig up
yet another unfortunate incident because those could fall under days not only I
regret happening but also never forget.
"Bubba" the neighbor, Uncle Butch, and Mom |
Who I mainly consider my
blood family are my grandparents, my Aunt Emma (Grandpa’s sister who died a few
years before he did), and my Uncle Butch.
They were really there when no one else was, especially when I fell on
hard times.
To me, they are the core
elements of what family is supposed to represent. Some of the others in my family—yes they are
that via blood and appearance wise, but when it comes to substance, a few of
them truly lack it.
There are some rituals I
will never forget, so I will talk about some of those.
One ritual involved the
three of us (Grandpa, Grandma, and me).
Grandpa loved to work
outdoors and when he was in prime health, he would have a garden every
year. He especially loved growing
tomatoes, corn on the cob, black eyed peas, Crowder peas, and butter
beans.
He would have these huge buckets
(think of the supply/paint buckets at Home Depot) and would load them.
Grandma and I would mainly help with the peas
and beans—to remove them from their shells.
Then, Grandma would go through the process to preserve them so we could
have them for later.
Once Grandpa started
getting ill, it became harder for him to maintain a garden. If Uncle Butch had been around, maybe it
would have been maintained. However, my
other uncle didn't have as much of a green thumb as Grandpa, so soon there was
no more garden.
I also enjoyed when
Grandpa and I would ride together.
Grandpa wasn't really that much of a talker at the house, but he tended
to talk a lot more when he was in the car.
At least when he was in the car with me.
Even in my younger years, I was the one people confided in and just felt
comfortable talking to. I never minded
being confided in. I believe it takes a
certain amount of bravery to confide in someone, especially if one is revealing
something he’s never told anyone else.
Grandma and Grandpa would
both tell me things because they would never have to worry about anyone else
knowing about it.
He and I had wonderful
times on our journeys. I know it
saddened him when he had to stop driving because I think for him, it proved to
be relaxing and a great escape when things started to get a bit trying at the
house (like Grandma working his nerves).
I didn't realize how much
freedom driving provided until I was finally able to drive and have a car of my
own.
Another ritual my grandma
and I had occurred in the morning.
Usually, I am up before she does, and I start making some coffee. Each day, a fresh pot. No leftover coffee for us. It just didn't taste the same.
Grandpa would drink coffee every once in a
while, but he was mainly a tea man. I
made sure to have the kettle set aside with boiling water for him.
I usually would also have
some toast to go along with it. Grandma
usually liked toast; I tended to like cheese toast. By the time Grandma would get up, everything
was ready.
When the weather was warm,
she and I would sit out on the porch.
She would have a little radio and try to listen to the classifieds. People would advertise if they were having
sales on items, including their address and telephone number. If Grandma was interested, she would write
down the information, even though the majority of the time, she never got a
chance to go to the place to check on the items. The show was usually for about thirty
minutes.
Once it was over with, she and
I would spend some time talking. Or we
would work on a Search-a-word puzzle together.
She was always amazed at how quickly I would find the words.
Sometimes we were just observant and watch
people drive or walk by.
That was just our time
together.
I did hear gossip that
others in the family thought it was so weird—the ritual Grandma and I had. In their minds, they believed that Grandma
should have had other people to spend time with in that way. Of course, they weren't brave enough to say
that to Grandma’s face.
What they failed to
realize is that I didn't mind the ritual at all. Even when I do visit, she and I still perform
the ritual to a degree. It is a bit
tougher, since Grandma can’t move around as well as she used to. Yet, we still try and have it.
6 comments:
Nice post.
My maternal grandfather who lived in Alabama was a farmer. I can remember helping him hoe, pick those vegetables and I shelled many a pea and bean myself. He had acres and acres of corn and watermelon and peanuts. You name it, he had it. There's something about that good country living....
great memories grandparents are awesome teachers
Love this post.. Why does the picture of your family looks like where my Aunt Anna lived? Looks like the same house.. LOL Oooh and I wished I had some crowder peas and rice.. LOL
Yeah, they don't have crowder peas up North.
This sounds so very nice!! And those are very beautiful rituals! :-D
Cool stuff! People call my father, "Butch". lol
Cheese toast and coffee for ME please!
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