Bonfires and Bluejeans

Randoms from my spot next to the fire

Lil’ ‘Ol Grandma Reed

on September 22, 2011

     I’m not sure why, but lately I’ve really been missing my great Grandma Reed.  We all had a close relationship with her; she was more of a grandma to me and my siblings since she was who raised my dad.  She passed several years ago, and I would say as time goes on I actually think about her more now than I have before.  I’m sure I could chalk it up to old age; I could sure use some of her age and wisdom at times right now.  Her quiet, soothing voice could reassure me through the roughest times and Lord knows there have been plenty for her to have worked her magic on. 
     Since she never learned to drive, or had a license, we would go over to Arkansas to pick her up to stay with us…a long drive for us kids.  I would sit in the backseat with Grandma, laying my head in her lap.  She was a small woman, short and thin.  But her lap was one of the most comfortable places I remember from my childhood.  Her wrinkly, bony hands where so soft, and had a very distinct smell of lotion and face powder that I can still smell vividly today.  She would outline the contours of my face with those soft, body fingers of hers; I would fight the inevitable sleep it would bring on.  What I would give to lay my head in her lap again. 
     Funny things about her pop in my head when I start remembering back.  She played the piano, and bits and pieces of different songs fill my head.  Songs from around the forties were her main selections, and I can still see and smell the yellowing song books she kept in the piano bench.  Her small, vinyl, green footstool made for a perfect stage when she needed a little performer…strangely enough I was usually the one to volunteer!  No matter how bad…or off…the performance was, she made me feel like a superstar!   
     Her kitchen, a complete throwback to the fifties era, always smelled of freshly brewed coffee.  No modern coffee pot for her, thank you very much.  She used one of those coffee press thingies on the stove.  The coffee smell mixed with the breakfast she would always fix up would waft outside to the covered carport, where we would spend lots of time, talking with the neighbors that our family had known, many of them for a number of years back.  Although her breakfast usually was made up of the traditional bacon (probably where I get my obsession of BACON!), eggs, and such, her specialty, in my book was her jelly toast.  No woman on this earth could fix jelly toast like that little old lady in Lincoln, Arkansas could.  And I haven’t found a woman who could do it as good, yet.  Just the right amount of butter, and jelly and she would toast it up in the oven…now that was some down home cookin’!
     Something that stands out and gives me a chuckle was in her bedroom.  My sweet, little old grandma was just that.  Little.  No surprise there, seeing as how that was passed on down to me.  We didn’t get much taller.  And she didn’t marry up, either.  My great grandpa was no giant…so there was no hope for a tall gene mixed in there.  (Sorry kiddos)  For some odd reason, my grandparents had the tallest, hardest to climb into beds I have ever seen, or have seen since!  They were so tall, I remember as a kid of even 10 or 11 needing a pretty big boost to climb up there.  (Cue the short jokes…I’ll wait.)  I remember watching my very sweet, and short grandma climbing into her bed at night and it was the funniest thing in the world.  Not funny in a make fun sort of way; just funny in a cute sort of way.  Sadly, it’s probably how I look climbing into my regular sized bed.  I’m sure, just like other things from my childhood…like the huge hill in the backyard at my mom’s that isn’t big at all…those beds weren’t really all that tall. 
     As my life gets settled in with finding love, having the kids, and all that goes along with it, I really find I could use her advice, and humor, a lot these days.  I’m sure she would be proud.  At least she would be entertained!   


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