I thought it would be nice to write some about my grandmother, Essie.
Last weekend, we went to visit my mom and Poppa came over as well.
He recounted several interesting things about his family history and
some things about the town and he also spoke about my grandmother's
last days.
At first I was surprised he was talking about it and then saddened,
but came away glad with refreshed memories of the happy times. I made
sure to mention a few of my memories with him as a "thank-you" for
what he had shared.
I remember Biggie was a great cook. I mean great. She cooked all the
traditional foods and lots of recipes from books. She even let me cook
things. She was so generous to me. She smelled good and gave great
hugs. She'd sing "I love you, a bushel and a peck and a hug around the
neck." I heard the song for real a short while back and I didn't
remember ever hearing it before, but I remember Biggie singing it to
me. She'd let me put on one of her nightgowns (to me they looked like
ballgowns) and I'd walk down the stairs with Biggie and Poppa would
sing "Here she comes, it's Miss America." I remember watching the
pageant with Biggie and Poppa. Poppa would make popcorn and put it in
a paper grocery bag with the top folded down like a cuff. He'd cook
bacon-wrapped filet minon and grill it on a tiny grill on the side
porch. Poppa would sometimes sit in the kitchen and read his paper and
listen to the scanner. He'd eat instant oatmeal for breakfast. I think
he would drink coffee. I am pretty sure Biggie drank coffee. I really
can't remember the coffee.
I do remember stuff sitting on the countertop. I remember
Sweet-and-Low sweetener and bifocal glasses. I remember downy fabric
softener and that pink blanket and the flowered blanket. They'd get
all staticy in the dark when you rubbed your feet around under the
cover.
Well, there are some random--really not at all organized--thoughts
about Biggie. I hope this is the first of many things I write about
her.
I know she had a big, full life, and my memories are limited to just
one part of her life and one facet of her character. This is my part
of the picture.
