relieved she must have felt! Slowly, more of my aunts and uncles married and moved out of the house to begin families of their own. Still, they all helped take care of their mother. They all saw to it that she never did without one thing. They made her life easier. When my parents got married, my grandmother came to live with them. Their house was home and weekly gathering place for the entire family because their mother was there. By the time I came along, my grandmother was getting older. Don’t get me wrong, I loved her, but I was downright terrified of her! She was tough! She would have me go get her a switch and tear my little butt up if I misbehaved! She was a quiet, stern, no nonsense woman. I can’t remember her ever talking to me about her younger days and all the hardships. Maybe it was just too difficult. But, how she must have missed her Phillip. She never played with any of us grandchildren. We just tried to stay out of her way. We even wondered if she even liked kids! But, maybe she never had the time to play with her own. There was always so much work to be done and they all had to pitch in. Her room was a source of great mystery to me. She had beautiful furniture, a big high bed with four tall posts and a dressing table with its own little satin covered stool. She always wore dresses and always had on her gloves for church. She kept her silver hair in a bun with the sides held in place with little combs. She grew several houseplants and called them “her flowers.” She never missed “her stories” (soap operas) after her nap. You better not wake her up during her nap either! There’d be hell to pay! She made string quilts from her scraps of fabric. She just called them “cover.” Those quilts were no big deal to her, but, I loved them! She made the most delicate crocheted doilies. She embroidered pillow cases and dresser scarves. She made the best fried pies in her black iron skillet. I am now the proud owner of that skillet. She loved “Uncle Earl Long!” She loved to watch westerns, Perry Mason and read Mickey Spillane novels. And, she dipped snuff. And, had a spit can. I always seemed to kick that nasty thing over and when I did, I had to clean it up. YUCK! She still had one more hardship to endure when one of my uncles died. Within a year, she died as well. She just seemed to wither away. Her doctor said it was leukemia. But, to me, she died of a broken spirit. It has been 47 years since she died. I have learned to respect and admire her. She was a rebel! She defied authority! She survived the natural child births of eight babies! She endured a flood, near starvation, a depression, wars and losing her beloved husband. She never remarried.. Her eight children unabashedly loved her. Because life was never easy when she was a young wife and mother, I believe her children gave her the life that my grandfather had wanted for her. That’s some kind of powerful love! Her children buried her beside her Phillip in Liddieville. She lies near my uncle, the son she had to bury. Liddieville, that little village where they first met, secretly courted, eloped and raised an amazing family during the worst of times. She is home. Just an old fashioned love story, about a “lady and an outlaw,” that left behind an incredible legacy, forged from great love, poverty, hardships and strength. My precious family. WWW.BAYOULIFEMAG.COM | FEBRUARY 2016
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