18 Jan Thankful Thursday – Zettie, AKA Grandmaw

Zettie Lamagdelaine was my grandmother. Grandmaw was what I called her. She would’ve turned 100 tomorrow January 19th. Today’s Thankful Thursday is in her honor.

This is what I remember about her most prominently. Most are from my perspective as a child. Some not. Here they are:

• cigarettes. Her and grandpaw smoked until I was about twelve, I believe. They both had really cool Zippo lighters that I and my cousin Richard coveted. The fact that they quit smoking is an amazing testament to them. I still have my worst habits.

• Kinnett dairy’s Coffee Ice cream. They loved this stuff. I hated it. Most of the time they had some vanilla too for me. We’d put lots of chocolate syrup on it. I still prefer that to straight up chocolate ice cream.

• Sometimes when Mom and I would visit, Grandmaw would still be in bed. I wonder about this. Grandmaw was an alcoholic for part of her life. Was she still drinking then? Hungover? I wasn’t allowed to go into her bedroom those mornings. Mom would tell me Grandmaw hadn’t had her coffee yet. Mom would make a coffee and bring it to her in bed. I would play with either Gomer, her poodle, or Minnie, her dachshund, depending on how I old I was (Gomer first, then Minnie).

• Minnie would use her strong and long nose to wedge her mouth and tongue to my face. I would be on the ground, face buried in the carpet, arms protecting my face. I always lost. I always intended to lose. I have never laughed more purely.

• Grandmaw wore a wig and dentures. I was shocked when I found this out. Then fascinated. And maybe a little grossed out.

• Grandmaw had a tin or copper roof that made the best sounds when it was raining. Sometimes, though, it would scare me, if I couldn’t sleep. I don’t remember really appreciating it until I was older.

• When I was in college, I had to ask her for money. I don’t remember what stupid thing I had done (I did a lot), but I didn’t want my Mom to find out. She gave me the money. And only a brief lecture. There were tears of gratitude and joy and shame. It’s funny to me to think that I thought she wouldn’t tell my Mom. It taught me that one of the chief pleasures of money is to be able to give it away. And Grandmaw did not have a lot of money.

• When Grandmaw didn’t have a strong feeling about something, she’d say “I’m not puhtickler.” Phoneticish spelling.

• Her and Grandpaw would sit in matching recliner and watch t.v. by the fireplace. This was in a room they added to their small ranch house. It was a big damn deal when this happened. Grandpaw taught me to split wood.

• Grandmaw’s age was always plenty-nine.

• At least four times a year, on my, Mom’s, Grandmaw’s, and Uncle Joe’s birthdays, I got to eat my Grandmaw’s chicken and dumplings usually served with a buttered biscuit and lima beans. There’s no food I want more. Only my cousin Richard would ask for something different. Hamburgers, if you’re wondering. I still resent him for this. Kidding. Mostly.

• When Grandmaw would ride with me, she’d always slam on the non-existing brakes from the passenger side.

• One of her cars had the horn on the same stick that you moved to put your blinkers on. I think it was Mercury Marquis. I still laugh thinking about her in traffic using her open palm to in a left to right motion to honk at someone.

• Sometimes we’d go to Picayune, MS to visit one of her sisters, my Aunt Lessie. They would sit in Aunt Lessie’s big king bed from late in the morning until the afternoon chitty-chatting and sometimes smoking. I learned later there was not always just coffee in those coffee cups. Seeing them talk for hours in bed made me wish I wasn’t an only child.

• My grandmother had a hate/hate relationship with my cat, Nicky (actually named Bunnicula after the children’s book.) One time the cat got in the dryer. Ba dum, ba dum, ba dum, ba dum. The cat staggered out, dazed, but no worse for wear. I’m pretty sure it was an accident.

• Grandmaw’s across the street neighbor was Ms. Rideckie (sp?). If a ball or other toy found its way into her yard it was gone forever.

• Grandmaw lived on Wise Street. Appropriately.

• She had a small tomato garden and the cliche is true.

• Walking to get the switch was much worse than being hit with it.

• I was given her pale blue Camry when she died. I now drive my Mom’s green Camry. She passed last May. I do not want to drive any more Camrys.

• Grandmaw gave the best shoulder massage. She had bony, depression strong hands that could dig deep into my shoulders. I equate being massaged with being loved.

I think that’s enough for now, although I know there is plenty more.

I miss you Grandmaw. I love you Grandmaw.

If you’re lucky enough to have one, go call yours.