My first memory is of me sitting on the porch on my trike and my mom screaming at me not to move. I’m guessing I was 3-4. There was a snake near me. Lela Mae, our once-a-week maid, came out and killed it with a hoe. Isn’t it strange that that memory has stuck in my mind for 58 years now? You’d think I’d have a happy memory instead. I do have happy memories. My young life was not all scary encounters with reptiles.

I remember being rocked by Shess, my grandmother. She wasn’t a big woman, but she had big boobs; and I found out later she never wore a bra- at least not when she was at home. All I remember was that she felt really soft when she would rock me. That may actually pre-date my encounter with Rodney the reptile, I don’t know for sure. A lot of my fondest memories are connected to my grandparents. They didn’t have much- financially, but they had everything I ever needed. Isn’t it funny, I never realized just how little they had when I was growing up? I only wish they hadn’t live 700 miles from me.

I’m so glad my mom was here to be a big part of our kids lives. I think that’s so important. Today, I become the age my mom was when my dad died. (My dad died young-59). That’s a terrifying thought. It’s a cold, gray day here right now. Perhaps I’ll just stay inside make a fire and work on a couple of  Christmas presents. Does everybody get so reflective on their birthday?

BTW- I’m working on the next installment of Unforgettable gifts. Here’s a link to the others, if you need to look back- Unforgettable gifts 1, unforgettable gifts 2, unforgettable gifts 3.

My mom’s parents lived in Sikeston, Missouri. It was a little town located in far SE Missouri- down in the little crooked piece at the bottom of the state. My grandmother’s name was Essie. Apparently I couldn’t pronounce that early on, so I called her “Shess.” My grandfather’s name was William. However, I never heard him called anything but “Pap.” (These days when I hear his name I’m always reminded of the gyno.) We moved to Texas when I was 5. After that, every visit was special since they were so infrequent.

One of my fondest memories was making Chef Boyardee pizza with her. I know Yankees wouldn’t have considered it real pizza. (However it was all I knew at that time.) The box included the  yeast you mixed with the warm water then added the flour. Then the hard part, the wait. It seemed to take forever to rise. Finally I could pat it into the pan, spread the canned sauce, sprinkle with the enclosed cheese and bake. No other toppings required. (A gourmet delight I’m sure.) But back in the day I thought it was terrific. When it was done Shess used her “gold” dishes for our pizza and Cokes. I thought they were real gold. When I was older I discovered they were just anodized aluminum with a gold finish. However, I still thought they were cool.

If it had been a really hot day we sat on the porch swing in the evening til the house cooled off. Sometimes, my dad would make ice cream. Remember the old wooden ice cream makers with the hand cranks? The kids would catch lightning bugs and put them in a Mason jar with holes in the lid. When’s the last time you saw a lightning bug? Where’d they all go? (I just realized that was a Waltonesqe moment.)

My mom recently told me that her mom, Shess, had a bad temper. She swears that Shess killed their crabapple tree by taking off so many “switches” from it to switch my mom and her siblings. (I never ever heard my grandmother even raise her voice.) I thought she was perfect and she thought I was an angel. Just as it should be.

It’s amazing the details I can still remember so clearly from so very long ago. Especially since my short-term memory is so iffy these days. I guess that’s why so many older people find it easier to live in the past. It’s what they can remember the best. I still don’t know why it’s that way though.

Since I didn’t marry Doug and have kids until I was 31, I’m now 57 and still grandchild-less. One of my friends just became a great grandmother at 58. I’m not pushing our kids though. I know I’ll get them eventually. I just hope I’m still me by the time the grandkids arrive.