Mama Pennye
This is my great grandmother Pennye Britt Person as I remember her in her 90s, after someone surprise-cracked a cascarone on her head one Easter long ago. Mama Pennye was fond of tricksters and had a remarkable sense of humor punctuated by a firecrackily “heeeee-heeeee!!” kind of laugh response to pretty much anything, whether it was funny or not.
She lived in a mint green duplex in Karnes City, TX most of her life, served up sweaty cold Orange Fantas and Planters Cheese Balls on when we came to visit, kept her door key hidden in a Miracle Whip jar in her front hedge, and she wore a clunky hearing aid box around her neck because she was nearly deaf since her adolescence. In retrospect, she didn’t have much to laugh about because there wasn’t much funny about her life. She grew up in a wealthy ranch family that lost it all. She married a handsome young man named Val (shown on the right with the darker hair) who died of yellow fever in his early 20s not long after he and Pennye had their first and only baby, my grandfather Robert. Deaf and poor and alone, Pennye contended with some serious odds. And while she reveled in and heeee-heeee’d with family for 104 years, she spent her last decade in a small-town nursing home because that’s all there was. But she never lost her sense of humor, or her toss-the-mayo-jar-in-the-bushes-and-off-we-go grit.
When I think about Mama Pennye and what I learned from her, I always get back to her sun-lit wintergreen kitchen —where I can feel the hot breath of a South Texas breeze idling through an open window by the icebox. I think of those two dripping, ice-cold Orange Fantas and the cheese ball pairing she put on the kitchen table for my brother and me — how she heeee-heee’d to herself how much we’d probably enjoy that after a 1.5-hour car ride from San Antonio in the station wagon way back. I remember screaming “THANK YOU, MAMA PENNYE!!!!” into her bosoms loud and clear. And I’ll never forget how she was always happily ready for what was next — when she’d pick up her boxy little suitcase, lock the front door and toss that damn jar into the bushes, ready for our one-hour road-trip to Goliad for the weekend.
Geri-lesson: Have a sense of humor about most things and look for ways to connect with the young people in your life.
Grandmother Person
My Dad’s mom, Clinton Wright Walker Person (on the left in this photo), went by the name Grandmother. She did not dream up some silly nickname, or ask to be called by her first name or let the children call her by a fumbled pronunciation. It was GRANDMOTHER. And she was one bad betch, one I hope to be like as I dance toward my golden years.
This is what I loved about her, and what I intend to mimic:
1) She looked like a Grandmother. She wore cardigan sweaters with balls of tissue paper in her sleeve and cooked goulash when she came to visit. She got a permanent every so often and her only beauty product was a thick (THIIIIICCCKKKK) slathering of Ponds night cream. Grandmother smelled richly of talcum powder. She was beautiful and approachable in every way to me, and that’s the kind of Meemaw I plan to be one day.
2) She never, ever demanded an audience, she was fine to be quiet and intentional and present, which manifested as pure, unconditional love for us envelope-pushing grandkiddos. These qualities, too, are on my list.
3) She was quick to pray for you — and write letters. This was annoying sometimes, but I miss these things now.
4) She kept her life simple and non-glam and small town. Totally hip, I think.
5) When the time was right, she moved from her “big house” to a small two-bedroom condo in Goliad, Texas. When the time was even better, she happily packed up a few things and moved to an elder care community in San Antonio without any fanfare or disagreement whatsoever. And it was a gift having her so close, I remember it well.
Geri-Lesson: It’s bougie bad and thick to be Grandmotherly IMHO! Let’s make it cool again, let’s bring this geri-shizzle back. Grandmother should be the norm.
Aunt Bess
My Great Aunt Bess lived in “the big house” just down the street from my grandmother Clint’s condo in Goliad, Texas. A classically trained pianist and worldly sophisticate, Aunt Bess was a robust widower with no children of her own. She depended on my grandmother, my dad and his brothers and demanded their company, respect and attention throughout her life. But mainly, my little grandmother bore the brunt.
As Bess became older and less able, she leaned on Clint for just about everything whether it was a trip to the grocery store or help off the bathroom floor. The laborious nature of helping Bess took a physical toll on my grandmother, and eventually her sons said enough. Unable to find more capable people to help Bess in Goliad and with the absolute most loving intentions, they eventually moved her to a small nursing home in New Braunfels, TX – more than three hours away from the South Texas community she’d had always known.
And she was pissed about it. She’d call our house and demand that my 12-year-old brother come pick her up and bust her out. Bess was unrelenting. And perhaps rightly so — in subsequent visits, we saw how the caregivers had dolled our strict, fancier-than-thou aunt up in garish lipstick, cheesy costume jewelry and hairbows. Blech. So that’s a sad story.
But there’s a big takeaway for Geri-me. Don’t get to the glory days of your golden years totally dependent on the good graces of family – especially if you’re alone, especially if they’re somebody else’s family. Have a plan. Read the room. Be humble about your situation and your needs and how they might be affecting others. Figure it out like the smart, brilliant person you are before someone else comes up with the only plan they can muster. Don’t be left holding the stupid hairbow in your hand.
Geri-Lesson: ^^^
Charles “Woodsy” Harper aka Pampaw
One of my favorite 20 Grammandments is “Thou shalt be relevant and keep up with key technology.” No one in my life illustrated this tenet better than my mom’s dad, Charles “Woodsy” Harper. Let me be clear: he could be an angry, OCD little fella and he could be meticulous and unwavering — but he sure did see the value in keeping up with current events and technology. He was among the first to buy a big a** microwave, and no one was EVER allowed to stand in front of it, ever. And speaking of big a**, you should’ve seen the size of the concrete satellite dish he installed at our farm, and the 20 pounds of technology in his early model cordless phone and television sets, the ones that kept him relevant and educated about the day’s stock news and politics — the ones he would yell at until his face was a cherry red. He was fluent in CB radio and VCR buttons and cassette players. He and my grandmother lived four blocks away from us, but Pampaw’s determination to stay current with communication and entertainment technology made staying connected that much easier on my mom. And it was all positive, as long as you didn’t try to talk to him during the news lol.
Geri-Lesson: Keeping up with the basics of current communication, entertainment and even pop culture technology makes staying better connected to loved ones soooooo much easier.
Grand Plans 