Wednesday, April 08, 2015

G is for . . . just a minute and I’ll tell you . . .

Yesterday, I had grand plans to write about our favorite news channel, Fox News, but I didn’t get to write until late and didn’t think I could think of all that I wanted to write. Today I planned to write about Grammar, one of my favorite topics. You know this if you read my E entry. Today began too early, had too much packed into it, and after a full day of work, I drove to Roswell for work tomorrow. Once again, it’s too late, and the old lady’s body and mind are too weary to think of all that I wanted to say.

So . . . I’m writing about GRANDPARENTS. Since I saw my grandparents very few times, I don’t have lots of memories. But the memories that I DO have are very special to me.

I’ll start with my mother’s parents, Memamma and Papa (Kolb was their last name). They lived in a little town just south of Shreveport, Louisiana., where I was born. I loved that little town. It was so different from New Orleans, with dirt roads and a short little main street that I remember mostly for the five and dime store, the movie house, and the hotel where Papa sat and jawed with his cronies.

My best memories of Memamma are of her in the kitchen. The food that I associate most with her are fried chicken, fried steak, mashed potatoes and gravy, and biscuits . . . delicious biscuits. I’m sure she made desserts, but I don’t remember them. She always had what we girl cousins called “cow butter” in the refrigerator, and I remember not liking it because I was used to oleo margarine and thought it tasted funny.

Another thing about Memamma that comes to mind is that she dipped snuff. I can just see her, apron on and hands covered with flour. She’d step to the back door, open the screen, and delicately put one finger on each side of her mouth and spit! Yuk! What an awful brown stream came from that lady’s mouth. She always traveled with a spit can, and I remember turning it over in the back seat while we were traveling to Texas to visit my aunt and her family. What a stinky mess!

In the evenings, when we girl cousins were in Logansport, we’d put on shows for our grandparents. Leah and Sheila, two sisters, would sing and dance to “Ballin’ the Jack.” I’ve included a demo of the song, performed by Judy Garland and Gene Kelly. I hate to say that Leah and Sheila’s rendition wasn’t quite so fancy. (

I used to love to sit next to Memamma on the couch during our shows. I’d hold her hand and pinch (gently) the skin on the back of her hand. The skin was so thin and dry. I could make it stand up, and then I’d push it down. My skin does the same thing now. I’m probably as old now as she was then, but she seemed ancient. I guess I am, too, huh?!

This entry is going to have to be continued. I can hardly keep my eyes open, but I’ll get back to this as soon as I can. I might not finish tomorrow, though, because I need to write my H entry. Hmmm . . . wonder what I can do!

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