To Grandmama's House We Go...

I hope that everyone had a great Thanksgiving yesterday! The upcoming series of holidays has got me thinking about family, my grandmother in particular and I realized that we are coming to the end of an era. That’s right. Ain’t no more big mamas.

I’m talking about:

Praying grandmamas. Church fearin, big hat and fresh suit wearin, scripture quotin’ hymn sangin’, shoutin’ and moanin’ grandmamas. Deaconess. Sunday school teacher. Backbone. Big mama.

Working grandmamas. Maids. Cooks. Cotton Pickers. Nurses. Teachers. Secretaries. Civil servants. Factory workers. Working 12 hour shifts. Doing jobs our generation of women could never fathom. And still holding the dual roles of mother and wife. Keeping a clean house and a happy husband. Going without so that their families could have. Deferring their dreams so we could have ours. Big mama.

Cooking grandmamas. Chicken fryin w/ one hand behind their back, pork chop smotherin, sweet potato peelin, collard green cutting, black eyed pea shuckin, peach preserve makin, sweet potato pie bakin, tea & lemonade sweetnin, no measuring needed and it always tastes sooo good grandmamas. Big mama.

Fighting grandmamas. Southern born or Northern bred, each battling their own war against racism, injustice and discrimination. Marching grandmamas. Not letting arthritis or the sugar or high blood pressure steal her joy. Had to walk 10 miles each way to school just to get a basic education. Keeping their families together at any cost, but understanding when to let a man go and having the resolve to raise a family on their own grandmamas. Becoming parents all over again, as they raise their grandchildren because their own kids have gone astray. Big mama.

Black, brown and high yella grandmamas. Black don’t crack grandmamas. Dispensing wisdom cloaked in Southern colloquialisms and lesson teaching metaphors: somethin’ in that milk ain’t clean, just cause you put kittens in the oven don’t make ‘em biscuits, just cause you got money don’t mean you got sense… Quilt sewers. Ass whuppers. Tear wipers. Soothers. Life savers. History makers. The keeper of our deepest values, our stories, our traditions, our people. More than words could ever describe. My grandmama. Your grandmama.

What have you learned from your grandmama? Think about it and cherish those memories. Or you can share them here! Do you think yo' grandmama makes the best peach cobblers this side of the Mississippi? Do you have an infamous beatin story to tell? Is there a piece of advice that you learned from her that you live by? Talk about it! It’s the end of an era y’all…

That’s my time y’all! Happy Rum Punch Friday!