* meet my g-mommie …

Posted on January 31st, 2010 by melinda in my not so normal family

Something occurred to me this morning for absolutely no logical reason that I can think of but it bothered me.  I am forever telling y’all about my Bentley side of the family neglecting to familiarize you with my Moretz (not pronounced mortz, it’s pronounced more etz) clan.  You need to know them as well, especially since they are where half of my genetic make up comes from.  And I love them equally! 

I was the 1st grandchild born on my mom’s side of the family.  (6th grandchild on my dad’s side).  We live next door to my grandmommie and poppi, that’s what I call my moms parents.  Thus I grew up living basically next to both sets of my grandparents.  How lucky can one kid be?  Today, my grandmommie’s house is between mine and my daddy’s houses. 

I think I shall introduce them to you individually over a series of a couple post.  That just seems easier.  Since my mamaw  gets lots of shout outs here on our blog, today I would love to introduce you to my grandmommie …

Grandmommie

Isn’t she beautiful?  She really is a hottie, always has been.  When I think of what a true southern lady should be, how they should act and present themselves … I think of grandmommie.  She and my mamaw were alike in many many ways and oh so different in other ways.  They are both outspoken, independent, motivated, intelligent women.  Neither of them ever minded or in grandmommie’s case, still doesn’t mind, saying exactly what they were thinking.  (don’t know who in our family could have inherited that trait … hmmm, it’s a mystery to me).  The difference is in how they say things … their approach.  I’m not even sure how to compare them to one another.  Let me start with an analogy … my mamaw would’ve worn white after labor day if it hair lipped hades and half of Georgia had white been what she wanted to wear on that particular day … my grandmommie wouldn’t be caught dead in white after labor day if it meant she had to go naked.  My mamaw used cuss words as if they were as common as the words if and the.  She didn’t mean anything improper by them, they were just words as far as she was concerned.  My grandmommie, to my knowledge, has never let a curse word slip from her lovely lips.  My mama use to say she would pray all thru Sunday lunch at mamaws that we didn’t repeat our newly acquired cussin’ skills vocabulary during Sunday dinner at my grandmommies.  The very thought of that sent my poor mama about giving us a speech the entire 1/4  mile drive between the grandparent house holds on the improper use of grammar, with the added bonus of “if you say one word your mamaw said while we are at your grandmommie’s you are getting a whippin’ as soon as we get home”.  We were wise children and took her warning to heart, plus my mama wasn’t afraid to whoop some butt and we felt no need to take that chance. 

My grandmommie grew up farming tobacco.  (just in case you’ve never been in a tobacco field, please stop right here and say a prayer of thanksgiving).  I worked tobacco once.  It was one time too many in my book.  It involves worms and heat and hard physical labor … all of which are on my top 10 list of things I dislike.  When she and my poppi married, they lived in her homestead and they continued to farm.  The farming evolved over the years to include cows, pigs and whatever else my poppi may haul home to his bride.  My mother was her oldest child, followed by two more daughters, my aunt Peggy (I have 2 aunt peggys … my mama’s peggy and my daddy’s peggy, which is how I identify them, you most likely would identify them differently if you ever met them but that’s an entirely different post).  my aunt Karen came next … she is probably the person I am most similar to in looks and actions on either side of my family, and last but certainly not least, the long awaited son, my uncle Robin. 

Grandmommie was what we would now refer to as a stay at home mom for the better part of my mom’s younger years.  If I am correct, she went to work at the elementary school when Robin went to school.  By stay at home mom, I don’t mean she sat around watching tv, going to soccer games and doing fun stuff.  I mean, she got up before sunrise, cooked breakfast for her family, which I hear often included oatmeal much to the dismay of my mother, she went out & milked cows, fed & slopped animals, got her kids ready for school, kept the house spotless, made all of their clothing, cooked a full course lunch and dinner and tended to every need in between.  All the while, maintaining her beauty and sense of style.  I find it odd to write about my grandmommie, she is a hard woman to describe.  I don’t love her more than I love mamaw, I don’t love mamaw more … I love them both, dearly, but they had very different rolls in my life.  Mostly, I liked whichever one was spoiling me the most at the moment the best.  And, I was a little devil when it came to running away to the other grandmother’s house.  Yes, I admit it … I was a terrible kid.  If I were at mamaw’s, I was running away to grandmommie’s … if at grandmommie’s, I was running away to mamaws.  What I didn’t know was the humor they found in this.  It was much later in my life that I learned of the many phone calls between them and their strategy to thwart my master plan of playing them against each other.  They out smarted me many a day.  For example:  I once told grandmommie I was running away to mamaw’s, she said fine go call your mamaw and tell her you’re on your way.  I was proud, I’d won.  What I didn’t know was 2 minutes earlier they had devised and evil plot to put little miss know it all in her rightful place.  I dialed up mamaw and told her of my horrid woe’s and that I’d be on my way.  She quickly informed me that she didn’t want me to visit that day, she was too busy.  Sometimes they would let me walk the quarter mile between them only to send me packing back to the grandmother I had run away from.  Evil I tell ya.  It’s a wonder I don’t have deep scars from such tortursome events in my childhood.  Or, it’s a wonder  I didn’t figure out they were in cahoots long before I did.  They were thick as thieves when it came to my brother and myself.  I feel certain they enjoyed many a laugh at our expense. 

I spent most of my childhood days not knowing that there was a world away from the devils track.  I didn’t know that all kids didn’t live in the lap of luxury that I called home.  Not because we were well to do, we weren’t and aren’t … but because love surrounded me at literally every corner of my existence.  I don’t have bad childhood memories, I have many funny, loving memories.  I have memories that at the time seemed to be tragic but unless you count not having a pb & j sandwich delivered to you upon demand as a real tragedy, not much went wrong in my little nest on this big ole earth.

I have lots of fun grandmommie (I will just call her g-mommie here, it’s easier) stories to share with you.  You’ll enjoy her stubbornness and tenacity … she is quite the spirited soul. 

me.

2 Comments on “* meet my g-mommie …”

  1. Penny

    I can’t wait to hear you put these stories on your blog. Grandmommie Hazel is quite a character.

  2. Marjorie Markham

    I don’t know your mawmaw and I don’t really know your g-mommie but several here may get a kick out of the story I have. I was just a volunteer at Bethlehem and being an outsider to this county had no idea that Hazel and Joy were mother and daughter. I called one day after 3pm and just remember the lady that answered the phone was rude. To this day, I am not even sure what I called about. I do know I got in my car and came to the school. I am guessing I wanted to talk to Joy and she would not let me or something. So…I get to Joy’s office and as we are talking, I tell her this. “I don’t know who that bookkeeper is that answers the phone here at the school, but she is rude and should just stay off it!” Joy in her calm manner, just looks at me and says, “So….what did my mother say that made you mad.” I about died. I realized then how different Joy was from her mother. I knew Peggy, Joy’s sister, and think she is more like her mom than Joy is. Then I met Robin who is a lot like Joy in my book. I love all your family as they are what made you. Now that I am working at a school, I would probably answer the phone just like Hazel did that day. Wonder how many people perceive me as rude due to the fact that this yankee just lays it out there? Most yankees will tell you, if you ask us a question, be ready for the truth, cause we don’t dance around the issue. Down here, I have somewhat learned the dance. Either way is ok.

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