Remembering Grandma... and Grandpa

A few months ago, I made banana puddin' for a potluck lunch.  I couldn't wait to tell folks, "It's Grandma's recipe."  And with every bite, I could hear Grandpa sayin', "I'd better square this up a little bit, this needs a neat corner before it gets put away."  And he'd dip the spoon into the round dish of bananas and pudding and mushy vanilla wafers - again.  He'd wink, and we'd laugh, again. 

Over the last few months, I've thought about what else, besides her banana puddin' recipe, I've learned from Grandma.  She taught me to hand-quilt when I was 8.  A Rainbow Bright pillow, the colorful scene outlined with uneven, ragged stitches.  But I kept it on my bed til I left home for college. 

When I was 14, we made a Trip Around the World -- a red, white, and blue lap quilt.  We cut the pieces first.  Then sew pairs together, slowly make strips of blocks.  Then sew the strips together, and the pattern takes shape.  I finally finished hand quilting that quilt 2 years later, using my mom's embroidery hoop. 

I haven't done any quilting since then, but I designed one, a gift for my in-laws that my sister-in-law made into a beautiful wall hanging.  Grandma worked professionally as a seamstress while Mom grew up, and made their clothes besides, as well as making quilts.  She designed and made a quilt where each block was original and unique - it won second prize.  When I was 16, I asked Mom to teach me to make clothes, like Grandma taught her.  Since then, I've made clothes, usually inventing at least part of the pattern - and yeah, created some disasters as well as some neat things.  And when I decided to make my wedding dress, it was Grandma - and Mom - that came to my rescue.  They helped me reset the sleeves and add the trim at the last minute.  I don't remember if I thanked them properly.

I remember readin' stories and havin' Easter egg hunts with Grandma and Grandpa when I was very young.  Each year, we visited on Independence Day for the family reunion, and on Thanksgiving Day for the feast.  Grandma spent a lot of her time in the kitchen on both occasions. Sometimes I got to help, usually at least set the table.  There was always cornbread, make in an iron skillet, with crust both top and bottom.  Home-canned beans, lemon cheesecake, gravy (which I didn't learn to eat until I was married), mashed potatoes.  The next day - after the big holiday meal - was tacos!  Then the 5 hour drive home Sunday afternoon. 

I remember going out with Grandma to the garden, growing in the red Carolina dirt.  Sometimes it was muddy, but they had HUGE garden, with corn and okra and Grandpa's 5 cotton plants, where we just had beans and squash at home.  Grandpa had a tractor, big and red, and if you were good, he'd ride you around the garden on it.  I'd steer for him, and he'd call me his "Farmer Gal." 

They had different ways of showing it, but we knew Grandma and Grandpa both loved us.  Grandpa would hug us, rub our backs with his gentle brown hands, and tell us how special we were.  Grandma just showed us - a big hug when she came out of the kitchen, makin' sure we stayed fed and had plenty of blankets - but she wanted "Grandma sugar", too.

I remember one Thanksgiving that it rained the whole 4 days we were there.  And there were "rainy" times when we were kids.  But I'm glad that my memory lane is sunny, with a gentle breeze and green, rustling leaves.