(no subject)
Who's your favorite person in the world?
Give 'em a call. I can't call mine anymore.
When I was born my father was in Vietnam. My mother and I lived with her parents for over a year I think. Mom had a job so I was with my Granny a lot of the time. Dad’s militaryness took us to Germany for 3 years, but for most of my life I lived a blessedly short distance from Granny and Papaw’s house. Until I was 14 years old she had four grandkids two my age and two who were two years younger. I was the favorite. Parents should not have favorites. I know that is way too idealistic, but they should at least try REALLY hard to hide it. I’m not sure if grandparents should be able to have favorites or not, but I was the favorite. I was just about to type that for years and years we used to leave school together, my cousins and I, and walk to Granny’s house. But while planning to tell you about all the great things to do and play there I remembered that there is an even better example: When we got back from Germany I was in first grade, both my parents worked so Mom would take me and Josh to Granny’s house where I was able to wait a bit before going to school. Mom says she started getting calls from the school asking about me because Granny would just let me sleep late. Granny just didn’t want to wake me up. In fact, there was a tiny little room in her house that she referred to as my bedroom until after I was in college (she didn’t take it away from me when I turned 20, they redid that part of the house and it was closet space, hallway, and water heater). Then it became my “old bedroom” when named in conversation.
Anyway, when I was exactly 14 Granny got a brand new granddaughter (my sister) who was followed exactly two years later by my little brother. So when faced with a couple of cute little babies or a teenager the choice seems obvious for a sweet little old lady doesn’t it? No. I was still the favorite. Aeryn will be able to attest that She was always coming up in conversation when I was at UTC. In fact our friend and roommate Dave stopped asking “Where’d that come from?” in favor of the simpler and teasingly more insightful “Did your Granny give you that?” And no matter how old I got or who was around she had no problem (as most of my girlfriends could attest) pointing to a baby picture of me and saying “That’s the cutest little baby there ever was.”
In January 1997 I moved to the Washington DC area. After traveling back to TN in February, May and July I was considering skipping my first family holiday ever and staying up here for Thanksgiving. Granny was diagnosed with non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma that Fall and I took the holiday to fly down and spend more time with her and the rest of my family. I have traveled to TN for every Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Presidents’ Day weekend since.
The Lymphoma went away. The treatment wasn’t much fun, but there she was 6 years later. Six years more I got to enjoy my 5-6 visits a year.
People often ask me about my vacations; where I’ve been lately, where I go, where my holiday will be this summer. It’s always the same answer. Home. Don’t I like to travel? Don’t I want to see new things? No, not really. I’ve never been on a cruise. I’ve never been to an island. I’ve never had a passport in my life. My family is full of fantastic people who live in a wonderful place where I love to be. They won’t always be there. Why would I go anywhere else?
So last year I was thinking about not taking the Thanksgiving trip since I’d just been there in February, May, July, August, and October and I was going to be back there in December. Granny had some problems that sounded like the results of a small-ish stroke; mainly weakness on her right side that progressed to an almost complete loss of movement of her hand and some speech problems. Actually it was a brain tumor. Obviously I was traveling to TN for Thanksgiving again.
The tumor was removed. She was weak for quite a while. But I was able to visit with her in the hospital every day (Thursday through Sunday). I spoke with her a few times by phone to check in after I returned here and by the time I saw her at Christmas she was moving around much better but still didn’t have any strength in her right hand. Birthday-day was a wonderful visit as well because the whole family was together again. Finally I was able to visit with her on two days in mid-June.
She’d gotten weaker again. My aunt and cousin were doing an admirable amount of work taking care of Granny and Papaw by driving them to doctors’ appointments and the like. Mom told me that Granny was really not doing well. She said I shouldn’t be surprised if Granny wasn’t around much longer. She suggested more than once that I phone Granny with the implication of “while you still can”. But Mom had said the same thing back in June hadn’t she? And Granny looked pretty good when I saw her back then…
Besides, what do you say on the phone to someone who is dying? After 33 years what can you say that’s new to let someone know that you love them, that they’re important to you? How do you use something as silly as a cell phone to tell someone that they’re your favorite person in the world? Now I wonder, “How do you not?”
I decided the thing to do would be to write a letter. Not a note. Not something that looks like an email. A letter like most people really don’t write anymore. Today. Didn’t happen. This weekend. Still, no. For her birthday. That would be it. Virginia Elder’s 77th birthday would be coming up August 18th. Perfect. Take the time to really think it all through. Make the time investment to really explain what she has meant all my life. Say “Thank You”.
I love my brother. He was the playmate of my youth. We get along well. I enjoy spending time with him but we don’t talk as often as I’d like. When my brother called me in the early afternoon of August 10th I wondered what was up. Granny had died just a little earlier. Both of Granny’s daughters (Mom and her sister Geena) were there, so was my cousin who bought the house next door and had been helping them so much. Mom had phoned Granny’s sister in Cleveland TN. Thelma had a hair appointment and thought about not coming that day. Mom told her it wouldn’t be much longer so Granny’s sister was there as well. Mom said she was glad Papaw wasn’t there at the end since it would have been hard on him to see the last couple of minutes. Geena’s husband had taken Papaw to town to buy a suit. Yes, a suit for the funeral. Yes, a suit for the funeral for the woman who died while he was gone to buy the suit.
I’ve been crying off and on all month (and all day today). I know it was time for her to go. She’d had a long happy life filled with the love of friends and family. She’d also had 16 surgeries. She told me that when I saw her in the hospital last Thanksgiving, but I never got a chance to ask what they were all for. She lived her life in a way that showed others how better to live without her ever being preachy or self-righteous. I’ve always thought that the time I spent with Granny and Papaw is the reason for a lot of my manner and outlook. She fixed one of my toys when I was a kid and I thought she could do anything. Growing up in a small town I thought everybody knew her (and I wasn’t far wrong). One of the Reverends officiating at the funeral told the story about why in the 1950s she gave him the bite marks that he claims to still bear to this day and I was reminded that there were so many other stories I wish I had asked her to tell me. (It had happened while their families were both camping on Sand Island on Watt’s Bar Lake. He said he was going to get throw her in the water and she said “No, you’re not.” He picked her up off the ground but she still turned out to be right.)
Just like the funeral last August I saw a lot of people I had not seen in a long time. A lot of people loved this woman and a lot of them came by the funeral home to say so. Most made an effort to find and speak to me in addition to Papaw and his daughters. They wanted to tell me how much she loved me, how proud of me she has always been, and how she was always talking about me. The ones who were able to find me without my siblings or cousins around were also more likely than not to mention that I was always her favorite.
I don’t know who her favorite person in the world was. I hope it was my Papaw, Thomas Lee Elder. When they met he lived and worked in Decatur and she lived in Cleveland (about a 45-minute drive these days). The way she used to tell it, because of how often they would write or he would drive down to see her, after about 6 weeks they figured it would be cheaper to just get married. That was 57 or 58 years ago. She spoiled him. Women of that age were raised to take care of their husbands. She really did. He had untreated diabetes that got so bad before detection that he can’t feel his feet anymore. He can walk, but only with a couple of canes. I worry about him now.
Usually when I was around the two of them Granny was the outgoing and talkative one while Papaw was quieter and mostly listened. After the brain tumor was removed last November she was able to speak quietly almost right away, but it was an effort so he picked it right up. In the hospital it was interesting to me to see how they worked as a unit so consistently even when the voice changed. I don’t know how they got him out of the house to go buy a suit that Tuesday morning. Maybe he was just exhausted by what was surely a couple of difficult months since I had seen them last, but he obviously loves that woman like he’d been doing it all of his life. I worry about him now that she’s gone. I asked my little brother, who is the last grandchild living at home, to go visit him as a favor to me. I should send Papaw a letter to let him know some of these things. But this isn’t about his letter. It’s about Granny’s.
Dear Granny,
Thank You.
Miss you.
Love you,
Keith
She knows the rest already.
Give 'em a call. I can't call mine anymore.
When I was born my father was in Vietnam. My mother and I lived with her parents for over a year I think. Mom had a job so I was with my Granny a lot of the time. Dad’s militaryness took us to Germany for 3 years, but for most of my life I lived a blessedly short distance from Granny and Papaw’s house. Until I was 14 years old she had four grandkids two my age and two who were two years younger. I was the favorite. Parents should not have favorites. I know that is way too idealistic, but they should at least try REALLY hard to hide it. I’m not sure if grandparents should be able to have favorites or not, but I was the favorite. I was just about to type that for years and years we used to leave school together, my cousins and I, and walk to Granny’s house. But while planning to tell you about all the great things to do and play there I remembered that there is an even better example: When we got back from Germany I was in first grade, both my parents worked so Mom would take me and Josh to Granny’s house where I was able to wait a bit before going to school. Mom says she started getting calls from the school asking about me because Granny would just let me sleep late. Granny just didn’t want to wake me up. In fact, there was a tiny little room in her house that she referred to as my bedroom until after I was in college (she didn’t take it away from me when I turned 20, they redid that part of the house and it was closet space, hallway, and water heater). Then it became my “old bedroom” when named in conversation.
Anyway, when I was exactly 14 Granny got a brand new granddaughter (my sister) who was followed exactly two years later by my little brother. So when faced with a couple of cute little babies or a teenager the choice seems obvious for a sweet little old lady doesn’t it? No. I was still the favorite. Aeryn will be able to attest that She was always coming up in conversation when I was at UTC. In fact our friend and roommate Dave stopped asking “Where’d that come from?” in favor of the simpler and teasingly more insightful “Did your Granny give you that?” And no matter how old I got or who was around she had no problem (as most of my girlfriends could attest) pointing to a baby picture of me and saying “That’s the cutest little baby there ever was.”
In January 1997 I moved to the Washington DC area. After traveling back to TN in February, May and July I was considering skipping my first family holiday ever and staying up here for Thanksgiving. Granny was diagnosed with non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma that Fall and I took the holiday to fly down and spend more time with her and the rest of my family. I have traveled to TN for every Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Presidents’ Day weekend since.
The Lymphoma went away. The treatment wasn’t much fun, but there she was 6 years later. Six years more I got to enjoy my 5-6 visits a year.
People often ask me about my vacations; where I’ve been lately, where I go, where my holiday will be this summer. It’s always the same answer. Home. Don’t I like to travel? Don’t I want to see new things? No, not really. I’ve never been on a cruise. I’ve never been to an island. I’ve never had a passport in my life. My family is full of fantastic people who live in a wonderful place where I love to be. They won’t always be there. Why would I go anywhere else?
So last year I was thinking about not taking the Thanksgiving trip since I’d just been there in February, May, July, August, and October and I was going to be back there in December. Granny had some problems that sounded like the results of a small-ish stroke; mainly weakness on her right side that progressed to an almost complete loss of movement of her hand and some speech problems. Actually it was a brain tumor. Obviously I was traveling to TN for Thanksgiving again.
The tumor was removed. She was weak for quite a while. But I was able to visit with her in the hospital every day (Thursday through Sunday). I spoke with her a few times by phone to check in after I returned here and by the time I saw her at Christmas she was moving around much better but still didn’t have any strength in her right hand. Birthday-day was a wonderful visit as well because the whole family was together again. Finally I was able to visit with her on two days in mid-June.
She’d gotten weaker again. My aunt and cousin were doing an admirable amount of work taking care of Granny and Papaw by driving them to doctors’ appointments and the like. Mom told me that Granny was really not doing well. She said I shouldn’t be surprised if Granny wasn’t around much longer. She suggested more than once that I phone Granny with the implication of “while you still can”. But Mom had said the same thing back in June hadn’t she? And Granny looked pretty good when I saw her back then…
Besides, what do you say on the phone to someone who is dying? After 33 years what can you say that’s new to let someone know that you love them, that they’re important to you? How do you use something as silly as a cell phone to tell someone that they’re your favorite person in the world? Now I wonder, “How do you not?”
I decided the thing to do would be to write a letter. Not a note. Not something that looks like an email. A letter like most people really don’t write anymore. Today. Didn’t happen. This weekend. Still, no. For her birthday. That would be it. Virginia Elder’s 77th birthday would be coming up August 18th. Perfect. Take the time to really think it all through. Make the time investment to really explain what she has meant all my life. Say “Thank You”.
I love my brother. He was the playmate of my youth. We get along well. I enjoy spending time with him but we don’t talk as often as I’d like. When my brother called me in the early afternoon of August 10th I wondered what was up. Granny had died just a little earlier. Both of Granny’s daughters (Mom and her sister Geena) were there, so was my cousin who bought the house next door and had been helping them so much. Mom had phoned Granny’s sister in Cleveland TN. Thelma had a hair appointment and thought about not coming that day. Mom told her it wouldn’t be much longer so Granny’s sister was there as well. Mom said she was glad Papaw wasn’t there at the end since it would have been hard on him to see the last couple of minutes. Geena’s husband had taken Papaw to town to buy a suit. Yes, a suit for the funeral. Yes, a suit for the funeral for the woman who died while he was gone to buy the suit.
I’ve been crying off and on all month (and all day today). I know it was time for her to go. She’d had a long happy life filled with the love of friends and family. She’d also had 16 surgeries. She told me that when I saw her in the hospital last Thanksgiving, but I never got a chance to ask what they were all for. She lived her life in a way that showed others how better to live without her ever being preachy or self-righteous. I’ve always thought that the time I spent with Granny and Papaw is the reason for a lot of my manner and outlook. She fixed one of my toys when I was a kid and I thought she could do anything. Growing up in a small town I thought everybody knew her (and I wasn’t far wrong). One of the Reverends officiating at the funeral told the story about why in the 1950s she gave him the bite marks that he claims to still bear to this day and I was reminded that there were so many other stories I wish I had asked her to tell me. (It had happened while their families were both camping on Sand Island on Watt’s Bar Lake. He said he was going to get throw her in the water and she said “No, you’re not.” He picked her up off the ground but she still turned out to be right.)
Just like the funeral last August I saw a lot of people I had not seen in a long time. A lot of people loved this woman and a lot of them came by the funeral home to say so. Most made an effort to find and speak to me in addition to Papaw and his daughters. They wanted to tell me how much she loved me, how proud of me she has always been, and how she was always talking about me. The ones who were able to find me without my siblings or cousins around were also more likely than not to mention that I was always her favorite.
I don’t know who her favorite person in the world was. I hope it was my Papaw, Thomas Lee Elder. When they met he lived and worked in Decatur and she lived in Cleveland (about a 45-minute drive these days). The way she used to tell it, because of how often they would write or he would drive down to see her, after about 6 weeks they figured it would be cheaper to just get married. That was 57 or 58 years ago. She spoiled him. Women of that age were raised to take care of their husbands. She really did. He had untreated diabetes that got so bad before detection that he can’t feel his feet anymore. He can walk, but only with a couple of canes. I worry about him now.
Usually when I was around the two of them Granny was the outgoing and talkative one while Papaw was quieter and mostly listened. After the brain tumor was removed last November she was able to speak quietly almost right away, but it was an effort so he picked it right up. In the hospital it was interesting to me to see how they worked as a unit so consistently even when the voice changed. I don’t know how they got him out of the house to go buy a suit that Tuesday morning. Maybe he was just exhausted by what was surely a couple of difficult months since I had seen them last, but he obviously loves that woman like he’d been doing it all of his life. I worry about him now that she’s gone. I asked my little brother, who is the last grandchild living at home, to go visit him as a favor to me. I should send Papaw a letter to let him know some of these things. But this isn’t about his letter. It’s about Granny’s.
Dear Granny,
Thank You.
Miss you.
Love you,
Keith
She knows the rest already.