(Note to readers: My grandmother passed away on Saturday. This diary is a grandson's remembrance. You won't find any analysis of the issues of the day within, but you will find insight into my relationship to my Mommaw, and hopefully, some insight into the relationships between grandparents and grandchildren generally. Thank you for your indulgence.)
SUBTITLE: She danced with the President (TJ that is)
The most comfortable pajamas I have ever worn were a breezy banana yellow pair with prints of little boys in blue and red running, skipping and jumping along the sides. Wide collar that was the style when I was four or five, and three butttons up the middle on the shirt. They were the lightest, most comfortable clothes you could ever wear or imagine.
Mommaw made them for me. She was so good with a needle and thread. As a child, I wore all kinds of clothes she made for me. Each sewn with care and love. Today, looking back, I am sure that love was the fabric that made those pajamas so magical and wonderful.
The best pancakes I have ever eaten were at Mommaw's house. And how many I did eat. I always had to eat at least three. And these were no small pancakes. At times, I could eat as many as five. And as full as my tummy would be, she would still offer a sixth. I love pancakes. And have eaten many pancakes many places, but none compare to the ones she made. Today, looking back, I am sure that love was the ingredient that made that batter cook up so deliciously.
But her culinary magic was not limited to pancakes. A lifelong teetotaller, she had a way with rum in the kitchen. She would send my Papa out each Christmas to obtain a bottle of rum for her rumballs. Papa would drive across Cobb County to the most remote package store, where he would be least likely to be spotted. He didn't want people to see his car outside of a package store. And the rumballs she made. Christmas will not be the same without them.
Her table was never empty for family, friends, or for that matter, strangers. One night when I was a sophomore at the University of Georgia, my roommate Matt and some friends had been to Six Flags in late October. We left when the park closed, but I blew out a tire not far out of the park. A buddy changed the tire, but I feared the spare would not make the interstate ride back to Athens from Austell, particularly at night. Since we were in Cobb County, my instinct was to call Papa and Mommaw, even though we were actually a good piece away from them. Mommaw was a night owl, so I figured she would be awake. But they had already gone to bed when I called. But she answered. And when our car limped in her drive about 1:30'ish, she had already made the beds for us, and we went right to sleep.
In the morning, we awoke to the smell of a full country breakfast. Papa had already been to the bodyshop to get a replacement tire mounted. So we all sat down to eat. Mommaw had never met Matt before, but she treated him like family. But she thought his name was David. So she would say, David, have some more grits. David, do you want some more juice. After a few times, I gently told Mommaw that his name was Matt. To which she responded, "For heaven's sakes. I am sorry Matt. You shouldn't have let me call you David." To which Matt unforgettably replied, "Mrs. Moss, you have taken me into your home in the middle of the night, fed me breakfast. You can call me anything you want to."
She danced with presidents. Or more specifically, the third president. Thomas Jefferson. When I graduated from law school nearly a decade ago, no one was more excited or had a bigger time in Charlottesville than Mommaw. A cardiac patient since about 1980, she jumped up three feet onto a pedestal next to a bronze statue of Mr. Jefferson. It was a moment I, and likely Mr. Jefferson, will not soon forget. There were many proud parents and grandparents with graduating students on the Lawn that day. But none prouder than Mommaw. And she had a grand time that weekend. She was the Belle of the proverbial ball. And she danced alongside our third president (who was and is as real to me as any president during my lifetime).
Of all of our freedoms and rights as an American, Mommaw certainly valued the freedom of speech the most. I know this because she was not afraid to speak her mind or share her thoughts. If you didn't know where things stood with her, it was only because you weren't listening. She taught me the joy of such expression. And I took joy in watching and listening to her through the years. I may not have agreed with everything she said, but I held the highest regard for the freedom and ease with which such expression came to her. Not that she wasn't prone to exaggeration now and then. Particularly when it came to our grandchildren I am sure. I a subtitled this essay "She danced with the Third President" because I thought she might find it such a worthy exaggeration. Particularly since it involved her grandson.
Oh, I bet you thought I was going to forget about Herschel. Any UGA football fan could probably spend a few hours acquainting you with legendary running back Herschel Walker. And to a boy growing up in Georgia in the early 1980s, Herscel Walker "The Goal Line Stalker" was (and is) an icon. The cabbage patch kid craze was roughly contemporaneuos with Herschel's reign in Athens, GA. I have owned (and do own) one doll in my whole life. And it is the cabbage patch style Herschel Walker doll that Mommaw made for me, her grandson in 1981.
Mommaw, I love you and miss you much.
Love,
Your boy