Granny was a lady. A Southern Belle. But everyone knows that true Southern Belles are fearless. (Let the record reflect that BECAUSE of that, I am NOT a Southern Belle, lol)
Nothing scared her or bothered her. Granny took things at face value. She didn't let her imagination take over and creep her out...if a situation came up, she handled it....like a BOSS! (LOL) Don't get me wrong, she was a total drama queen at times, but it was dependent on the situation.....
When my sister was two years old, so was everyone and everything else.
"Wendy, How old are you?" asked ANYONE
" Two" she would say.
"How old is April?' asked ANYONE
"Two" Wendy would say.
She was a complete tomboy. She loved turtles. Many times while we were younger, my mom would have to stop the car if a turtle was on the road and we (lots of times ME) would have to get out of the car and get it, and it was Wendy's new pet. (I could write on and on about this, but this is The World According To Granny.....) In 1987, when I was nine and Wendy was two, she had the cutest little tiny yellow belly turtle (Red Eared Slider for all you technical folks). And, as expected, he was also "Two years old"....matter of fact she named him "Two".
At home, Wendy carried poor Two around like he was a toy or doll. She would bathe him in the bathroom sink, push him around on toy cars, even put him in the center of the handlebars of her tricycle. Poor thing. So, it should come as no surprise that Two spent most of his life hiding completely inside his shell.
One day, after some traumatizing event he had gone through, poor Two had hidden himself inside of his shell, refusing to come out, probably wishing for death rather than the torture of a two year old tomboy. This upset Wendy so much that she cried. I thought it was pretty funny. My mom tried, to no avail, to get him out of his shell.
So Granny said "Aw! Give him here! I'll get him out!" I should probably mention here that Granny had the most beautiful set of long, healthy nails her whole life. No matter how hard she worked with her hands, she was almost known for her beautiful, natural nails, especially in times of Press On Nails...then later false acrylic tips. Anyway, Granny grabs poor Two in one hand, and with her right hand, stuck her long nailed index finger right up the turtle's rear end, and out he came! Startled, all four limbs, his head and his tail popped out! My mom laughed so hard, I"ll never forget that day. All Granny said was "Well!....Y'all wanted him out, huh?"
Another more recent time, Christmas Day of 2009, the boys and I had a rabbit. We had been at Granny's for a few days for the Christmas Holiday, enjoying the company of my Uncle Art, my cousin Robert and his son Kyle. We would run home every day to check on the rabbit and feed her. On Christmas Day, that afternoon, Max and I went home to check on the house, and feed the rabbit, and Max came out and said "Mom, I think she is dead. She isn't moving and she's stiff."
So, me, being the big chicken I am of course could not go into the house and see for myself.
"Max, go and get her out of the cage and put her in a trashbag!" I said.
"I'm not touching her!" said Max (there is no doubt that this is my child)
Off we went, back to Granny's, hoping Michael would take care of this problem. So much for having sons...."And you want ME to touch it?!?!" exclaimed my little man of the house.
"What's the matter?" asked Granny
"Granny, we went home to feed the rabbit and she is dead!" I said
"Oh, no! What y'all gonna do, Puh?" asked Granny
" I don't know....nobody wants to touch her, but I have to get her out of the house". I said, holding back tears, I loved that rabbit.
Granny: " Aw! Let's go over there, Come on! I'll get that rabbit outta there in a New York minute!" (poor Granny, her and her little phrases, lol)
Me: " Granny, you can't get up those stairs alone."
Granny: "Well, what?! You're not gonna come in the house? You're that
scared? You ought to be ashamed! Grown woman like you!"
Michael: " I'll go in with her, but I'm not touching the rabbit!"
So, off we go, Me - a 32 year old fierce single mom, Michael and Max (11 and 9 years old respectively --and boys, to boot!) and an 83 year old feisty Cajun lady piled up in the car like The Clampetts to go and fetch the cold, stiff, dead rabbit from my home, so that I could live there again. Upon pulling up in the driveway, I look at Michael and see that he is trying to put on a brave front, but at the same time having no shame whatsoever that he refuses to touch a dead animal,
True to her word, once she hobbled up the steps of my porch and into my house, less than a minute later, she returned holding a long, stiff, white dead rabbit by the neck.
"Michael, get a trashbag!" I yell from the car, because I can't even get out, I'm so petrified.
"And hurry up! It's cold out here!" hollered Granny.
"It's cold out here!" that was her only worry. Cold meant Pneumonia to her, lol. Nevermind that there was a dead pet rodent in her hands. She bagged my rabbit in two trashbags and gave her a proper burial in my trashcan at the road. Hobbled back into the house to wash her hands and got back into the car, smoothed her hair and said "Well, that's that."
Yep, Granny, that was that. You were dainty at times. Beautiful and elegant, tender and loving, but tough as nails when you had to be. And God knows that there were many times that you had to be. I wish I could have been your hero, the way you were mine. I wish I could have done an eighth of the good for you that you did for me. I wish I could have protected you from things that scared you, even though not much scared you at all. You were brave beyond belief. You were an absolute riot. I miss you so much I cant even put it into words. What in the world am I supposed to do without you?
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