
The original Alabama Mama, my grandmother Martha, passed away a few days ago. She was 91. She was something else. It is definitely from her, through my mother, that I learned strength. I'm not sure what she was like before I knew her, but I can assure you that she was no fool. Raised in Midway, Alabama in a hardworking rural family, I know that she had a keen eye and a suspicion that kept her from skipping naively into potentially embarrassing situations. Anyone who was ever in her home on Magnolia Road will likely remember the faint background noise of a police radio that ran almost constantly by her bedside, lest she be forced to hear about the latest criminal activity from the late news or morning paper. But she wasn't harsh, just wary, and fiercely loyal to her family and friends.

During a time when most women stayed in the home and took care of cooking and cleaning, my grandmother did the chores and more. For over 40 years, she worked full-time at Dr. Zeiman's office in downtown Mobile, learning quite a lot along the way. From her confidence in medical matters, you might have mistaken her for a nurse, and her grandchildren often did. She wasn't a believer in the spoon-full-of-sugar medicine, however, and on more than one occasion made me soak in near-boiling water to soften a scab on my knee that she then ripped off. That I still have scars to prove that these things happen should make me angry, but the fact that I delivered my first child without drugs of any kind makes me think that all that pain might have been good practice for the bigger trials I would have to face.

And she was a sports fan. Baseball was always her first love. When she was a young woman, she would pass Saturday afternoons watching double-headers with players like Hank Aaron. More recently, she would pass time watching the Atlanta Braves on television. She might have been quite a talent on the field, had she ever played, since a few of her grandchildren made it to the Little League World Series more than once. For herself, she chose cycling, a passion discovered after being diagnosed with diabetes in her 60s. Never one to involve herself in something casually, she joined a cycling club and convinced her husband to purchase a camper that would be their mobile home on long rides across the country. When I played soccer in middle and high school, she was my most loyal fan, attending games in the rain and cold, though I'm not sure that she had ever seen a soccer game in her life before that time.

Whether headed out for a weekend at their second home on Fish River or on a journey to Branson, Missouri, my grandmother loved to be on the move. At the time, it must have been considered quite a journey for a young woman to leave her small life in rural Alabama for the big city. She was a country girl at heart, without grand ambitions, but with a strong, quiet desire to see the world. She lived and travelled simply, preferring to stay in their motor home rather than a nice hotel. Even on days when a trip wasn't practical, she would take the preteen me on a tour of the fancy neighbors of Mobile to see the flowers or to check out the newest construction going on around town. In her late 80's, she even accompanied the women of our family on a cruise to Mexico out of the port of Mobile, and though she would have liked to be more agile, she showed less wear than the younger women after four days at sea.

In her later years, I heard a lot about her desire to be on the road again. On the way to a catfish dinner and "just one cold beer" at David's Catfish House. Or on the way to Fish River to build a campfire and catch up with friends. Or on the way to her daughter's house because families should be together. Or on her way anywhere with her husband, Ferris. She told me once of driving in a pick up truck, alone, with her infant son Charles on the seat next to her, all the way to Texas to see her husband while he was stationed there. And while I know she hated to leave her family here without her guidance, I hope that she is feeling relived to be with her husband again, and excited about the opportunity to eavesdrop on all of us with her little police radio in the sky.
1 comment:
This is really sweet and brought tears to my eyes. I miss my grandparents. I hope you are doing well. I enjoy reading your blog. :)
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