Granny

This is my Granny. Johnnie Francis.

 

She is the matriarch of our family. 84 years old.

This picture was taken last Mother's Day at my Mama's farm.

She loves being outside.

I spent a lot of time at her house when I was little. I remember spending the night at her tiny, 2 bedroom house. My Aunt L & Uncle D still lived at home. Granny, L & me would pile in the bed at night and she would tell the best stories.

 

I remember one series of made-up stories about a baby chicken named BeepBeep who tormented the next door neighbor's hound dog. I have told the same story to G-Man & made more adventures for sweet little BeepBeep.

 

Granny was a good cook. She never ever used a recipe.

I went to her house about 15 years ago so she could teach me how to make her famous fudge candy.

I was so frustrated because she couldn't give me the exact measurements.

"You just add it until it looks right."

"You'll know when it has cooked enough."

 

Yep. She would pour peanut butter fudge candy onto her Corelle dinner plates.

Remember these at your Granny's house?

 

 

Yep. Every single time I see these, I think of my Granny's house.

I remember stealing sips of her coffee. Or should I say milk and sugar with a splash of coffee for color. Guess how I like my coffee?

 

They didn't have a grill back in the day, so if you wanted a hamburger, she would fry it up in the pan and serve it on square sandwich bread with good 'ol American cheese. With mustard, because that's how I liked it. Have I mentioned that I was the only grandchild for 20 years? Granny spoiled me. Just a little.

 

 

Oh, and they didn't have air conditioning.

I can't even fathom that.

BUT they did have a water cooler.

They would close off the living room & turn that sucker on.

We would be freezing, huddled under blankets.

Watching television.

 

And TV.

Andy Griffith Show

I Love Lucy

The Waltons

Little House on the Prairie

The Flintstones

Bugs Bunny

 

The Young and the Restless

("Now hush, my stories are coming on!)

You didn't dare talk or make loud noises when Mrs. Chancellor and Victor Newman were on.

Who was Nicki sleeping with this week?

Did anyone know she used to be a stripper?

How many times has Jack Abbot been married?

Who was discovering who was their long lost father was?

 

Can I get an amen?

 

Granny smoked like a freight train.

Like lighting one cig off the other smoking. Not just cigs.....Winchester Little Cigars.

Seriously.

She went to the doctor when my cousin Chels was little.

She was diagnosed with early stages of emphysema in 1995.

Her doctor said "If you keep smoking, you are going to be chasing that sweet grandbaby around with an oxygen tank behind you."

She quit cold turkey. Never looked back.

Amazing.

 

 

 

She had a porch swing under the carport.

Many hours were spent playing in the sand in that carport.

Searching for doodle bugs and driving my Uncle's matchbox cars around.

 

Lingering under the giant trees in her backyard while looking for 'horny toads'.

Hanging laundry on the clothes line.

Sitting in lawn chairs with the water sprinkler on your toes.

 

If you got a cut or scrape or stung by a bee or ant, she applied a healthy dose of Monkey Blood.

Don't know what that is?

 

Oh, yeah. Monkey Blood.

 

I'm telling you this because I'm feeling sentimental.

You see, we put Granny in a nursing home this week.

She has Alzheimer's.

She had been walking with a walker, but has progressed to needing more help.

My uncle Dan has been caring for her at home.

Cooking, bathing, shopping, cleaning, laundry. The whole nine.

He has done a fine job. It became too much.

 

She asked no less than 10 times "How long will I be here?"

Heartbreaking.

How strange to be in the same home for 35+ years, then boom. New home.

With a roommate, a strange bed, strange people, strange routines.

 

When my Mama went to visit her yesterday, she was fully dressed, sitting in a wheelchair at the Nurse's station, clutching her photos of her 3 grandchildren. When my Mama asked what she was doing, she replied "I'm waiting on Danny to pick me up and take me home."

 

Sigh.

 

Many times over the last few years, she asks "Who is that little boy?" (referring to Grayson)

I swear, when Danny brought up some pictures to put on her dresser, she pointed to a picture and said "Well, there is Grayson."

 

Alzheimer's is a cruel, cruel disease. My Granny was the storyteller in our family.

It is gone. She sits quietly most of the time, occasionally asking a few questions.

Not the oral historian I remember from my childhood.

 

On our way to the nursing home, she was looking intently at a building on Spur 503.

"Didn't that used to be a church?"

It was the building that used to be Trinity Lighthouse Church.

The church my family grew up in.

 

It's so weird how the brain works.

 

Soooooo, pardon my trip down memory lane. I'm missing the Granny of my childhood.

People, listen to your parents and grandparents.

When they are telling the same old stories over and over.

Listen.

One day, they may not tell those stories anymore. I promise you'll miss them.

Write them down. Take pictures. Ask them questions. You won't regret it.

 

Until next time.....