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Memoirs: Grandparents

by Cheryl Williams

Created on: June 27, 2009

I never got to tell my granny goodbye. She died when I was a senior in high school, busy with friends and dealing with my first broken heart. She was at the bottom of my priority list at the time. And I have always regretted it. I guess somewhere inside I thought that she would always be around for me. She was my rock and the only stable person in my life.

Many years have gone by since her passing at age seventy-two. So much has happened since then. And I believe this fine lady deserves some kind of tribute.

Granny was a beautiful lady with a name to match...Pearl. Everyone affectionately called her "Granny". The children in the neighborhood where she lived loved to stop by her house and just talk to her. She always had a warm smile and a plate of warm brownies to go along. She loved to tell stories about the past. And she always had a word of encouragement to pass along.

Granny had an elegance about her. She never wore a pair of slacks in her entire life. When I try and picture her now, I can still see her in one of her pretty flowered dresses with a hat to match. She wore make-up til the day she passed away, and she had her beautiful snow-white hair done once a week at the neighborhood beauty parlor. She had boxes of beautiful costume jewelry to go with her outfits, and I used to love to go through and try them all on as I would play "dress up".

Granny was always active. Each spring she planted flowers and kept her garden so pretty. Pansies were her favorite. I smile as I remember Granny's way of punishing me if I was naughty. She would hand me a pair of child's scissors and have me go and cut the dandelions in her yard and bring them to her. Granny had cupfuls of dandelions sitting around her house.

She would take my sister and me to church with her every Sunday. We would walk, since it was near to her house. And then, once we were there, she kept us nice and quiet with a supply of Lifesavers.

Granny loved to walk, whether to the church or to the post office. Sometimes, however, she would treat herself to a taxicab ride to the grocery store. Granny never had a driver's license. What's so funny is that even though she knew any of her family would be glad to drive her to the grocery story, she would choose a cab because it made her feel like one of the "rich" people. In a tiny mountain town, a taxicab ride was equivalent to a ride in a limosene, which was nonexistant there. As a matter of fact we often laughed and referred

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