12/02/10…I suppose I am in the grieving stage of grief. My grief
is because my Grandma passed away after 97 years. She was the root of our
family. Every Thanksgiving family members from Oklahoma to Florida traveled to her
tiny little farm in Loris, South Carolina. There is some poetic irony she
passed away three days before Thanksgiving.
Dessie Caines birthed 4 daughters and 2 sons, which later in life turned into an extended family of 61 current family members. In my thoughts, I can only remember my Grandma as Grandma. My earliest memories of her are around age 10 or 12 and at the time she would have been around 67 years old. Therefore I only remember her as an old woman. I write old because she was. I only remember her with gray hair which became whiter and whiter with age. And indeed, at 67 one is usually showing one’s age. However my Grandma, in spirit, was anything but old. She had a mischievous streak about her, even into her nineties. She loved nothing more than telling a good story of mischief. However, there was a problem with her stories. She hardly ever finished them because she got so tickled. She knew the ending and was already laughing at what she knew was coming. Of course everyone around her started laughing because she was laughing. Sometimes we had no clue regarding the ending, but surely it was funny so we all erupted in laughing along with her. This is why she was a great story teller. Although I always heard the same ones over and over like a television repeat, the stories never got stale.
My Grandma was born in 1913. She died in 2010. She never got her driver’s license. She never drove a car. When she married my Grandpa, Parlett (PT) Caines, she moved into a house and lived in this same house until her death. My mom and some of her siblings were born in the front room of this house. Today the house still stands, albeit with some renovations over the years, some lovingly done by her offspring, and then there were some done by her own choosing. One funny story she told was the time she wanted to expand the kitchen. PT, my Grandpa, told her she could not take down a wall. She asked why. He said because the wall is load bearing, and if she did knock it down, the whole house might cave in. However, my Grandma did not take no for an answer. She was adamant about taking out the wall. My Grandpa argued and argued with her, but to no avail. So what does my Grandma do? Her attitude was, well I’ll show you. Once PT left the room, she proceeded to take a sledgehammer and starts demolition. However about halfway into the demo, the ceiling starts sagging under its own weight and my Grandpa, whom by now is furious, rushes back in to shore up the ceiling before the whole house caves in. At some point I am sure he said to her, I told you so. And I imagine my Grandma’s response was shrugging her shoulders and reveling in the fact there was no more wall. She had her expanded kitchen.
Dessie Caines birthed 4 daughters and 2 sons, which later in life turned into an extended family of 61 current family members. In my thoughts, I can only remember my Grandma as Grandma. My earliest memories of her are around age 10 or 12 and at the time she would have been around 67 years old. Therefore I only remember her as an old woman. I write old because she was. I only remember her with gray hair which became whiter and whiter with age. And indeed, at 67 one is usually showing one’s age. However my Grandma, in spirit, was anything but old. She had a mischievous streak about her, even into her nineties. She loved nothing more than telling a good story of mischief. However, there was a problem with her stories. She hardly ever finished them because she got so tickled. She knew the ending and was already laughing at what she knew was coming. Of course everyone around her started laughing because she was laughing. Sometimes we had no clue regarding the ending, but surely it was funny so we all erupted in laughing along with her. This is why she was a great story teller. Although I always heard the same ones over and over like a television repeat, the stories never got stale.
My Grandma was born in 1913. She died in 2010. She never got her driver’s license. She never drove a car. When she married my Grandpa, Parlett (PT) Caines, she moved into a house and lived in this same house until her death. My mom and some of her siblings were born in the front room of this house. Today the house still stands, albeit with some renovations over the years, some lovingly done by her offspring, and then there were some done by her own choosing. One funny story she told was the time she wanted to expand the kitchen. PT, my Grandpa, told her she could not take down a wall. She asked why. He said because the wall is load bearing, and if she did knock it down, the whole house might cave in. However, my Grandma did not take no for an answer. She was adamant about taking out the wall. My Grandpa argued and argued with her, but to no avail. So what does my Grandma do? Her attitude was, well I’ll show you. Once PT left the room, she proceeded to take a sledgehammer and starts demolition. However about halfway into the demo, the ceiling starts sagging under its own weight and my Grandpa, whom by now is furious, rushes back in to shore up the ceiling before the whole house caves in. At some point I am sure he said to her, I told you so. And I imagine my Grandma’s response was shrugging her shoulders and reveling in the fact there was no more wall. She had her expanded kitchen.
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