She would have been 119! As with my tribute to my grandfather, there is no way I can be objective. I loved her IMMENSELY: my sweet mother. By birth, she was my grandmother. But from one day old, it was she that fed me and cuddled me and by 4 years old, I was her's legally, as they adopted both me and my little sister. It was with her that I bonded as a baby. It was she that I loved as my mother.
While I had already had two or so years with her, my first vivid memory was of me climbing up onto a chair in my birth parents' house (where I had gone to live briefly) and dialing (somehow - at 2) the phone on the wall and saying to my grandmother: "Mema, come get me". Somehow, that is my first vivid memory.
The picture above, is of her nearing the end of her life. She was at my sister's house, admiring Rosie's flowers.
She was born in 1903 in a little area called Dime, in northwest Alabama. Here she is, below, with one of her friends as she reads a letter. I hope you will excuse the grainy photo. It is a picture OF a picture.
My grandmother met my grandfather at a concert and they were married in December of 1920. What a prize, what a catch she was to my grandfather! She was beautiful. She was feminine. She was a LADY! I'm afraid the women's libbers would not have liked my grandmother. Because she reveled in making a beautiful home for her husband and children and had no interest in leaving her home for a career of her own. She was a wonderful mother who was always at home for her children. Of course, in those days, it didn't take two incomes and she could afford to do so.
As it so happened, she did, later, have a beauty parlor inside of her husband's store and restaurant. (Many many years later, her best friend, Faye, would ask her how much she charged for a plate of hair!)
Here she is in the 30's.
And here she is posing with her sister-in-law, Polly. Mema is on the right.
Here she is posing in the 40's with her daughter, son and husband. There was no more devoted and loving mother than she.
Wasn't she beautiful?!
Mema raised her two children in "To Kill a Mockingbird" Alabama in the 20's, 30's and 40's. It was a time of tradition, idealism and unfortunately, probably, white privilege. In those days, Mema always had "help". But there was no kinder person than my grandmother and she always treated her helpers kindly; a pattern that would follow her, her whole life. When myself, my sister and my cousins were little, Bertha Mae was like a member of the family. And I remember that when Mema would take her home, Bertha Mae would be laden with bags of goodies each time she left our house. Then, later, Frances worked for Mema and I remember that Mema would straighten up the house and be so excited that Frances was coming - to straighten up the house that Mema had straightened up for her!! LOL.
As World War II came and went, her son and daughter married and started homes of their own and soon, "Myrtle" became "Mema" with the birth of her first grandson in the late 40's. Then along came Marianne and then later, Patsy, Linda, Al, Rosie and Grant.
After Granddad sold his own businesses, he spent 25 years with the Luzianne Coffee Company and finally, in the early 60's it was time for him to retire. Here my grandmother is with him at his retirement party. Isn't she stunning! But those glasses!!!!
See that dress she's in? Several years ago, I was visiting my cousin and was delighted to learn that she now has that dress, along with some of Mema's jewelry and furniture. I was so glad to know that her things are still in the family.
In my sweet grandmother's life, she had two best friends. The first one was "Miss Effie", as they called her. They were best friends until Miss Effie's death. Later on in life, she became friends with Faye (whose birthday it is today, as well) and would remain best friends until Mema's death. Everywhere one would see Faye, they would usually see Myrtle - and visa versa. Aside from Faye, Mema was a big bridge enthusiast and here she is posing with her bridge team. (Mema is the one in yellow)
As I was growing up, Mema and Faye would go out every day at 1:00 for coffee. They were the "Lucy and Ethel" of our community. BUT they would always be home by the time we kids got out of school. Faye had Steve and Mema had myself and my sister. I always knew that Mema would be home when I got home from school. And that made me feel secure.
Mema was ALWAYS "made up", complete with red painted finger nails and coiffured hair. She and Faye were regulars at Wanda's Beauty Parlor and in fact, it was Wanda that prepared my grandmother after her death. But my grandmother had always told us how tacky she felt it was for people to peer down upon a dead person in their casket so when she died, her daughter insisted that the coffin remain closed. And while we all agreed, what a shame it was. She was so beautiful in her blue dress and beautiful hair.
Mema always smelled of Chanel # 5. We all would keep her supplied with it because we knew she loved it so. (Many years later, I had a coworker whose name I had drawn for a Christmas gift. I asked her what she wanted and guess what she told me! Chanel #5. You can BE ASSURED she got her gift)
The years came and went as her grandchildren grew up. But through all the years, Mema remained the same feminine lady that she always had been. She NEVER raised her voice to any of her children or grandchildren. She didn't have to. We respected her. We adored her.
In the picture below, she's posing with her granddaughter Pat's husband, Barton. He would often come over after work for dinner and she looked so forward to be able to cook or him.
And here she is, well into her 80's with her granddaughter, Linda.
Mema was a selfless woman. After she had raised her first two children, in her fifties she started over with me and my sister. Due to her son's illness and divorce from our birth mother who felt we would have a better life with my grandparents, they adopted me and Rosie. How fortunate Rosie and I were that we were raised by my grandparents. I can remember being at the lawyer's office and he asked us if we understood what it meant to be adopted and I distinctly remember just wondering what we were going to have for dinner. I ALREADY thought of them as my parents so it wasn't a big deal to me that we were being adopted. They used to joke because Mema would take me in my little stroller to the Country Club to have lunch with her old lady friends! She treated us with love, with patience, kindness and motherly instruction - just like she had done with her first two children. I NEVER saw my grandmother act in an unkind way to anyone. She was loyal to her husband, never criticizing him to us and in return he absolutely held her on a pedastal treating her as the queen that she was. And I wasn't the only one that loved her. My father and my aunt both worshipped the ground she walked upon. And all of her grandchildren and great grandchildren, as well. We LOVED Mema.
Mema could sew and she could crochet; as well as knit.
She sewed all of her's and my sister's clothes and in fact, Rosie was voted best dressed at school. To this day, I have a blanket that she crocheted for me, as well as another blanket she made from scraps of left over material from the many dresses and pants suits she made for herself and my sister. She was such a creative person.
She made a deal with me in high school. She told me that if I would find a part-time after-school job, that she would match everything I made and put it into a fund for college. And so, I did.
And she did.
I didn't realize how good I had it in those days. But I was so spoiled. They sent me to a private school. I had a car AND an allowance. Here is a note she once wrote me while I was away at school. It was written on the back of a check stub that she included along with some money.
As I said, I had it so good at college. But it just so happened that I didn't like that school. I wanted to come home and go to a state school, The University of Alabama in Huntsville. And so, one day, I packed up (in my inmaturity) and didn't ask my parents. I just withdrew and went home. When I got home, it was late so I let myself in and went to bed. The next morning, upon realizing I was home, my grandmother knocked on my door and came in. She wanted to know why I was home. I told her what I had done.
She didn't raise her voice at me. She quietly and calmly told me that I would now have to get a job and for me to get up and get started. Somehow, I knew my childhood had ended that day. But that was how my grandmother was: calm, cool and collected. She knew that it wasn't necessary to be unkind to get her point across. My sweet grandmother.
Mema was widowed in 1984 and for the next four years she remained active. She played bridge. She went out with Faye. She traveled some.
But one day, I walked in the house and there she was sitting on the couch. I could tell she had been crying. She didn't complain. She didn't talk about it but I believe that she knew her time was coming to an end. She and Faye had been to her cardiologist's office and she was going to have to have a serious test on her heart. She had gotten to where she couldn't walk without it causing her pain and so they wanted to see what was causing it.
She went into the hospital for the test. The technicians botched the test and punctured a hole in her colon, causing Sepsis to set in and a heart attack to follow. At 30 years old, I got up in the bed with her, there in the hospital, and told her how much I loved her. She called me "honey". Three days later, I stood on one side of her, holding her hand and Faye stood on the other holding her other hand as she fell into her everlasting sleep. My saintly grandmother had slipped away from this world.
We all gathered: the children, the grandchildren, the great grandchildren, the cousins, the friends. We remembered her femininity, her kindness, her sweet spirit, her loving manner . . .
