Wednesday, November 14, 2007

Jessie

This is from April 2007...

I never thought of calling her Grandma, Grandmother, Grannie. She was Jessie to my Dad, grandkids and all who knew her. I suppose she was what people would call eccentric. She was known for her love of fishing, cats and chickens. Funny combination, now that I think about it! I remember sitting with her and my Pop on the 2nd row of the United Methodist Church in Gillett, Arkansas every single Sunday. Jessie would mouth the words to the hymns, rarely making a sound. The same for the Lord's Prayer. She was the one who sent cards from her Sunday School Class to those who were sick or shut-in. I still remember her handwriting. She wrote to me at college. I really loved the letters. She would write about the weather, how many fish she had caught or the goings on of a particular cat. Nothing wild or exciting, but a handwritten letter from home meant alot to a 19 year old 1,000 miles from the nearest fried catfish and homefries dinner.

She and my Pop lived on a houseboat on the Arkansas River. They never wanted for money. They had it. They had chickens and ducks, cats and hunting dogs. They didn't like living "in town" and did have a house in the country, but the houseboat is where they lived. It was small and had this gang plank from the bank of the river to the edge of the houseboat. How they never fell in is beyond me. In the winter if it snowed that heavy wet Arkansas snow, their friend and farm worker, Puddin', would come and climb on top of the floating box and shovel off the snow. Otherwise they would sink from the weight of it! It used to "fly all over" my mom that Jessie let me swim in the river. Now that I think about it, the current was pretty strong. But southern Arkansas in July was so hot and that water felt so good! She would let me drive her boat--had a huge Mercury motor. We would go out to a sandbar and I would explore and play in the water and she would sit in a lawn chair and read the newpaper. She let me bake cakes from any mix she had in the cupboard. I loved it. I think this where my love of frosting-less cake comes from! I also got to iron handkerchiefs and towels! I loved that as well. Handling hot dangerous appliances must of been a huge draw to a little girl! She taught me how to sew on a foot treddle sewing machine! THAT was fun. We also made a quilt together. One side of it was a golden blanket and the other bright mismatched squares of cloth she had aquired. I used it everytime I slept over.

I was home when she had a stroke. I rushed out to her house. (She moved from the houseboat after my Pop died). Her friend, Topsey, (Puddin's wife) was there. Jessie's pulse was very thready. She was sweaty and glassy eyed, but scared. She had some around by the time the ambulance made it. She would have several of these and finally slip into not recogizing any of us, not even her only child, my Dad. He moved her to a nursing home close by and visited her every Sunday. He took and fed her ice cream. She seemed to like it. The pained look she wore on her face like a gothic painting would lessen when the ice cream was there. Otherwise, she wore that expression unless she slept. I was there in the hours before she died. I read from the Bible and prayed that her passing would be easy. It wasn't. But we don't always get what we ask for, do we? We get what we need in the big scheme of things. We take the experiences that we have had with people and weave them into our lives and our personalities. We pet our big fat tomcat and think of a grandmother who loved cats. We laugh at the irony that our 9 year old has developed a facination and love of chickens!

God surely gives us what we need when we need it.

Thanks for reading...

2 comments:

Shannon said...

what a great memory. thanks for sharing.

dani said...

ok, i missed out on all these original posts... somehow??? knowing what i know about the dynamics of your dad's and jessie's history, how ironic that your dad took her ice cream each sunday to the nursing home. your dad was/is a good man, d...