From the Archives

My grandma has been on my mind a lot over the past few weeks so when I ran across this post about her on my old blog I knew I wanted to transfer it. She was so beautiful and SO funny.

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Mama is my mom's mom. That's her on the left with her sister and brother. (How pretty is she??)

There are several fun bits of family lore concerning Mama that, having verified some details with my mom and gotten permission, I will now share.

Mama and Papa on their wedding day, August 13, 1942

We're not sure the first bit is completely true. There are a couple possible explanations as to why Mama wore blue on her wedding day. One is that they were poor and she already owned a blue dress that suited her so she just wore it. The other is this:

When my Mama and Papa were engaged they went on a trip with another couple. One night, they were supposed to stay at a hotel, girls in one room and boys in a different room. Except the hotel messed up and instead put them in one room with two beds. They strung a curtain up between the beds and the girls shared one bed and the boys shared the other. However, the damage was done and since Mama had "slept with" Papa before their wedding, she just didn't feel she could wear white.

Apparently, my uncle talked to her about this at some point and explained that the modern definition of "sleeping with" someone was not exactly what she thought it was and she was kind of offended.

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The next bit is verified and true and awesome.

Apparently Mama could never hold her liquor. On her honeymoon she overdid it a bit and had several glasses of wine when one was usually plenty.

That night, totally sloshed, she went around to the other rooms in her hotel, knocking on doors and offering to wash people's socks.

When she awoke in the morning her room was hung with freshly washed socks and she had no idea who any of them belonged to.

(Aaron and I have the same question: who are these people that they are willing to hand over their dirty socks to the first drunk woman who knocks?)

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And I'll finish with a memory of my own.

I had my first raspberry at Mama and Papa's house. She possessed a green thumb that neither my mom nor I inherited and kept a garden in the backyard with different vegetables and a few fruits. I've never much cared for vegetables, but oh! Her raspberries! I always looked forward to them. Nikki and I spent many wonderful hours picking over her raspberry bushes, collecting some to bring inside but mostly just eating them. Raspberries always reminds me of Mama.

This morning I had raspberries on my oatmeal and thought of her with every last glorious bite.