Please register to participate in our discussions with 2 million other members - it's free and quick! Some forums can only be seen by registered members. After you create your account, you'll be able to customize options and access all our 15,000 new posts/day with fewer ads.
All of a sudden Grand Mammy Ann screamed in her loudest voice yet "Glenn". So much for finishing what she was doing. She goes down the hall yet again and enters the torture chamber again. Envision this sight if you will. A 2 year old toddler standing at the foot of the bed that is solid oak and engraved with all kinds of ornate article of the period saying "Mammy said for you to kiss ass." Over and over again. When my grand mother rounded the doorway she caught just about enough to realize that she had been busted. Mary Glenn, the sweet little namesake was going to be her undoing with her 90 year old mother who had a temper like Ivan the terrible. "Glenn" she started
as my grandmother braced herself for the tongue lashing that she was about to receive, "Do you have any idea what this child is saying?" Stunned momentarily she probably took a moment to thank God that this woman was nearly deaf. And in the next breath, she did what any self respecting woman in her position would do.......she lied to her own mother. "No Mama I don't."
And with that Mary Glenn was delegated back to the kitchen and you can bet she didn't tell anymore secrets that day.
Summer came and went and Grand Mammy Ann grew weaker with the passage of the year. By Christmas she was all but comatose when a massive stroke silence her tyranical ways forever. She died on January 15, 1953 at the age of 91. Ironically when my own grandmother died, she was the same age, 91 and she died on January 15, 1987. Strange coincidence. But my grandmother had it all. She was funny, smart, didn't take any nonsense, could sew like a finely oiled machine with precision that I wish I had. Oh I can sew but not like she could. I can still hear the whirl of her foot pedal Singer sewing machine turning out the Easter dresses that she made for us each year until we got "too old" for the frills. She weathered the good and the bad times and was the thread that held the fabric that I know as my family together. And I just wish I had half of her good looks, business sense, family honor, and the ability to get herself out of the most dire situations. I doubt there will ever be another woman like her. I try to be. I want to be like her. But I do my things in my own way and have advantages that she didn't have. And I have yet to decide if this is a good or a bad thing. As for Grand Mammy Ann, I don't remember her. I think that I do. Seems like in the back of my mind right before she died I remember standing at the foot of that bed and she gave me a sucker from a stash that she had. According to my family it could have happened. The question is do I really remember it at the age of 17 months or has it been told to me so much that I think I remember it. Either way, I am beginning to wonder if I inherited Grand Mammy Ann's ways or Glenn Hill's. Time will tell. I will let you know when I get to be 90.
I hope you enjoy this story. If you do, I will post some more later. This is just telling the story. When I put it in the book, it will be finer tuned than this.
Bethany: I have been reading this board for awhile & I have always enjoyed your posts. You are a great storyteller - I felt like I was there watching the whole thing transpire. Thanks for sharing with us.
I am really glad you enjoyed it. Remind me to tell you about Robert and his evil dog Damian. I swear this dog would risk his life to cross the road just to bite me. Have you ever seen the movie "Snow Dogs" and watched how the main character the dentist and his dog Demon interact? This is me and Robert's dog Damain.
well, good luck with it. Did the neighbor in the pool story make it in? that was so funny!
anyhoo...
2nd freaky thing about the cousin death. My family passed down kid clothing. They chose his fav school shirt to be buried in & it had been passed to him by me (it was green/blue/red plaid--I was a tom girl). Which was very weird for me.
3rd freaky thing was another open casket at the visitation. Seeing him in the shirt. Seeing a dead person. He looked just like an angel. But, I was terribly freaked & I can still see him in my mind. I couldn't go near an open casket again until I was in my 30's.
4th freaky thing was the funeral wreaths. Everyone deals with things in their own way & I respect that & understand better now as an adult/parent...however it freaked me out, as a child. The parents put the graveside funeral wreaths, into their bedroom (A LOT) still on the stands, & about I think every picture they had of him & they all slept together (parents+older DD+ an infant DD, born a week after his funeral). They kept the funeral wreaths in there, for at least a year. That was when I saw them...very freaky to me, all dried up, very morbid feel & they've creeped me out ever since. They were probably up far longer. The father kinda went insane with grief/anger for about 7 years. He was so unstable, the trial was delayed for 7 years, as they didn't think he could hold it together in the courtroom. Nurse was never located. They found out the Dr. was also responsible for many deaths, in other states, and that made it worse. He wanted to kill them...eye for an eye. After the trial, he gradually got better, but he wasn't the same for many, many more years. He's fine now, but it's been 25 years ago.
THe next open casket I had the guts to peer into made it all better...my DH's GM. I was tentative about seeing another open casket, to say the least. She looked so beautiful. I spent some time alone with her. Held her hand. I was so glad the suffering was over for her & she was at peace, that I was very happy. Got over the phobia!
Here's a recent funny....
Few weeks ago, during prom, I was helping someone make an arm bouquet. One of the local florists is located in the rear of a funeral home. I dropped in to pick up some flowers, but when I arrived they were parking cars, for a service. I had been in the garden & was dressed ragged & dirty. I didn't want to show any disrespect to the arriving grieving family. The funeral home employee was directing the parking. I rolled down the window & said "I need to go in, (pointing to the florist door, adjacent to the funeral home back entrance) but I'll come back later, as I see people are arriving for a service & I'm inappropropriately dressed to get out." He said "I see. There's only a couple here just yet, & I think you have time." I said..."But, I'm just really underdressed & dirty from the garden, I'll come back" He said.."Well, pull around to the opposite side entrance & I'll lead you through & you can go ahead & do what you need to do, & leave before more people come...they won't see you that way. You'll see the garage door for floral pickups. Stop there.". I pull around & scurry in. He meets me & holds open the side entrance door, next to the garage door he specified. I step into a long hall with lots of doors. He says "first door on the left..if you hurry, you'll have time". I rush to the first left door & turn into the room & there is a dead stranger, in an open casket, 3' from me! I actually shreiked. I rush out...."No. No. No. No. Noooo! I need to see the florist! not HER!". He freaks, fumbling his words.."Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry! You didn't...? I thought...? Uugghh! Oh my gosh! Why didn't you SAY the florist???" Mis-assumptions both ways! Yikes. Lesson learned. I was glad I had gotten over my previous "open casket" phobia though...didn't freak me out, other than the initial shock. He & I were both falling out laughing & thought it was rather hilarious...after a few moments!
Talk about flipping out. That had to be a real experience. Thanks for sharing that with us. You know what they say about the word ASSUME. Do it and you make an ASS out of U and Me. And what is this thing with a florist in the back of a funeral home? That is where our florist is. It was run by the wife of the funeral director when I was a child. The man has been dead for many years but the woman that owned the florist just died about 18 months ago. Very convenient. Go to the funeral home, exit the back door and order your flowers. They knew what they were doing.
Last edited by Bethanytedder; 06-12-2006 at 04:35 PM..
What a great story! Sounds a little like my own grandmother. She was a very strong Methodist lady, stood five foot nine and was in total control of all situations....tell us more!
Well, I can't write anymore stories for you. And I strongly suspect that Skout is back so the ones of you that stood behind me, be careful. I have an ugly red dot about the story and one about the another post started by a new member.
Luckydog, how about PM me. I need to ask you something. Thanks
Please register to post and access all features of our very popular forum. It is free and quick. Over $68,000 in prizes has already been given out to active posters on our forum. Additional giveaways are planned.
Detailed information about all U.S. cities, counties, and zip codes on our site: City-data.com.
Please register to participate in our discussions with 2 million other members - it's free and quick! Some forums can only be seen by registered members. After you create your account, you'll be able to customize options and access all our 15,000 new posts/day with fewer ads.
