Saturday, February 03, 2007

My Father's Side of the Family

My father, pictured on the right, would have been 84 today. So I thought this would be a good excuse to continue with the family series of posts I started at the end of December. For me, this was the interesting side of the family tree. That's my grandfather on the left. I never knew him as he died long ago. His wife was a true piece of work. She divorced him after giving birth to my father and married another man with more money in order to support her lifestyle which was, shall we say, loose & carefree and involved spending money. That's probably why I loved her so. We were very much alike.


Here's an early picture of my grandfather. Not a bad looking chap!



And here's my wild and feisty grandma.


After she married into money, she would travel around the country leaving her 2nd husband behind to run his laundry business. However, she would take her "colored" maid along on the trips!

In the 1960s husband #2 decided to sell the laundry and retire. (He died in 1968.)They packed up and left town for Dallas shortly after I was born. She managed various apartment complexes in the Dallas/Ft. Worth area for many years. From the time I was 10 or 11 I would visit her every summer for several weeks. That's probably where I acquired my filthy mouth.

She loved to get in the car and go places. She also loved going to the airport, even if she wasn't flying anywhere. Sometimes we'd just go eat at the airport. When I was old enough for my parents to feel comfortable allowing me to fly alone, I flew from Little Rock to Dallas on Braniff. This was back in the old days before deregulation and not every airline had figured out the efficiency of the "hub" concept. My flight to Dallas took me via Ft. Smith and Tulsa. Or maybe that's why Braniff is no longer serving us.

My grandmother was certainly one of the few liberals in my family. And she'd flaunt it. I think she enjoyed the shock value. I remember her bragging about having two gay guys living together in her apartment complex. She called them her "gay boys." Once in awhile she'd have other stories to tell, like the time she found a tenant growing marijuana in an apartment.

By the time she was in her 70s it was obvious her boss was ready for her to retire. She was frequently getting moved to a new complex. She always kept a cheery attitude about it, even when she was moved to the far west side of Fort Worth. Finally, about the time she was in her late 70s she was fired. I know that must have been devastating for her and I know she expected to continue doing what she did, and living the big city life until she died.

With no job and no place to live, she had to return to rural southeast Arkansas where she grew up. Fortunately my dad had a small rental house that was vacant. He fixed it up so she would have a home. It was very small but cute. Her belongings filled every square inch of the place. It took her awhile to realize she was no longer the "manager" who could bark orders to have something changed or upgraded. I honestly believe for awhile she thought this was only going to be a temporary situation and eventually she'd return to Dallas.

It was only a few years before she began to slide into frail senility. That's when I realized I'd lost my grandmother. Her tough persona faded into something unrecognizable. She was no longer independent. Her last years were spent in a nursing home after she was unable to care for herself. I hated visiting her there. She became clingy -- always wanting to be touched. She was content to sit in her wheelchair and hold my hand and she was always sad when our brief visits ended. This was never the grandmother I knew.

I honestly don't remember when she died or how I was notified. I don't even know if I went to the funeral. It's odd how I tend to put unpleasant events out of my mind.

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Part 3 in a series on Parents/Grandparents.

Part 1: Father and Son
Part 2: Meet the Grandparents

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