PART II--A DIFFERENCE OF NIGHT AND DAY

Note: I placed a few extra pictures on MAPA’S Post.


My Dad's Mom was totally different than MaPa. Her family was the Strawn Family, from Ottawa, Illinois. She, like MAPA, had only one child. (This is one reason Mom and Dad had four children. They both wanted sisters and brothers when they were young.) Both our grandparent’s husbands had also died young. Notice the title of my post is ‘GRANDMOTHER’. We four sisters were told in no uncertain terms that we MUST call Dad’s Mom, Grandmother. Grandmother Frances was a very smart, talented, formal, stern, petite, strait-laced type person. She loved traveling abroad and was constantly on the go. I do not think after granddaddy died that she had her own “house” so to speak. She either stayed with relatives in Jacksonville/Mandarin/St. Augustine, Ottawa, her sisters in Asheville, or Daddy in Virginia/South Carolina. I know that she stayed in Asheville most of the time after traveling. I do know a lot of her poetry was sent from Asheville. Whether she had her own house and or apartment between traveling, I am unsure. When she stopped traveling she had her own apartment or set of rooms in Camden, and later in Summerville, SC. The very last years of her life she lived with us at the King Cotton Motel.








Grandmother was a poet. A very good poet and many of her poems were published in many different literary magazines of her time. She wrote these poems up until the last few years of her life. She even wrote one to me when I was born.


SONG FOR SUSAN

If I could sing the song of summer slumber,
A song with silken swish of scented pine,
Or hum with bees in drowsy, droning number,
The soothing song of nature’s anodyne:
Or sing the song of palms in rippling rhythm
And roll the drum beats of the waves on sand,
You’d dream, caressed by pine and palm and wavelets,
Drowned in the scented warmth of lotus land.
Author Note: To my Grand-daughter, Susan Anne Livingston
Published in Versecraft Emory University, Atlanta, Ga.
Published in National Anthology for 1946,
pub. by Artcraft Publications, San Francisco, Calif. Nov. 1943

The second poem at the end of this blog post was intended to be for all four sisters. Although she rarely displayed this side of her personality, she did have a sense of humor that appeared in many of her poems. Many of her poems revealed characteristics about Grandmother that we did not see.

One of my first memories of Grandmother was my Dad informing me that at all cost I was to keep my feline away from her. Well, that was the wrong thing to say for my curiosity got the best of me. I needed to see what would happen if a cat got within her territory or sight. I hid outside her window and carefully lifted the cat so it could be seen outside her window. Well, I am here to tell you, my Grandmother let out a blood-curdling yell that I never have forgotten as she came bounding out of her motel room. Not expecting such a reaction, I could not get away soon enough and got caught. Not only did she hate cats, she was scared of them as well. My Dad was one angry man. A spanking was the order of the day. It was also the end of a trustful relationship with Grandmother. If a cat appeared at any time when she visited or lived with us, I was blamed for its presence. (In many cases, I hate to admit, she was right. RIGHT, STRAWN?) To be honest I am NOT the cat lover in my family. I tolerate them so I guess I was like her in that sense. My sister Strawn is the cat lover and on limited occasions I will babysit Pepper, who I might add doesn’t particularly like me. (Here are several pictures of Pepper)


My Grandmother suffered from a painful version of arthritis. She was a little/short woman who always wore, later in life, a long black dress. She used a black, sharp-looking cane. I was always terrified she would haul off and whack me. She loved to stomp it loudly on the floor to get our attention. Up until she was at least sixty-years of age she could stand on her head. She could also touch the floor with the palm of her hands while she stood flat-footed. (No, I will not tell everyone on this post/blog what she would do to my sister Gay when she tapped her cane twice before passing her going from her room to the dining room.) Of the four sisters, Peggy was the only one who really got along with Grandmother. They would spend long periods of time talking to each other. I must admit she was a very interesting lady and on occasion, when I took the time to listen, she would tell me stories of her travels. I must admit I regret now that I didn’t take more time with my Grandmother Frances.

As dignified and strait-laced as Grandmother was she loved boxing and I can remember many times she would join Dad to watch boxing matches. I would join them not to see the boxing but to gape at her when she got excited and started punching air. It was pure entertainment.

She loved to listen to Louis Armstrong. I loved listening to him myself and I even have a stuffed frog that plays a piece of one of his songs, “What a Wonderful World”. My grandson loves to punch the frog's foot to listen as well. When I kick the bucket, I want to be cremated (if you want you can save a tablespoon or two to bury with Coach), my ashes scattered out into the ocean and that song sung.

WHERE PRAIRIES BOAST OF THE RIPENING CORN
Mellowing brick in a sun-drenched wall
Sheltered a garden where children ran free
To play make-believe through rapturous hours
That flowed like music before the fall.
Over three little girls, a busy brood,
A grandmother apple tree spread a wing
Like a floating parasol, pink in spring
And green in a fluttery mid-summer mood.

No heed was paid to the dusty street:
Within the gate bright flowers blew,
With grassy paths for flying feet
‘Cause raspberry time might soon be due.
Around a table set in the shade
Dolls sat stiffly to stare at their plates.
Impeccable manners the poppets displayed;
Their abject submission made perfect playmates.

When cherry time came up in June
A child roamed wild as a drifting balloon:
Like tropical birds they chirped and fed,
In gay checked gingham or Turkey red,
Perched on the sloping chicken house roof.
Cherries ripe forecast sultry days
Across vast fields of prophecy
Were prairies sleep in a ripening haze.

Under the arbor, ‘let the old cat die,’
As the swing sank low or the swing sailed high.
The leafy vines would try to hide
Hard, green grapes from the Argus-eyed,
Till clusters drooped in luscious hues
Of purple, pink or frosted blues.

The tang of autumn wove a spell:
The maples blazed; glossy apples fell.
‘Twas thought good apples must be free
For any child to pick from a tree.

When blizzards swirled great gusts of snow
Against the window’s crusted frost
With moist, warm breath and eager fist
They polished peep-holes through the mist.
They watched tall elms, in stately row,
Shiver and sway. Then high flew the swing
Like a tipsy pendulum off a fling.

* * * * *
Now they are old…little ladies face
The crumbling walls of drifting space.
The supreme adventure, in gardens unknown
Beckons and calls—to each her own.

This was written on February 14, l955, and dedicated to Susan, Peggy, Strawn and Gay Livingston.
I believe it was in memory of Grandmother and her sisters who lived in Asheville, NC.

PART I--A DIFFERENCE OF NIGHT AND DAY

My two grandmothers had entirely different personalities and lives. My Mother’s Mother was originally from Canada and upon receiving citizenship moved to New York City. She also had a summer house in Sea Girt, New Jersey. I knew neither of my grandfathers, but I did know and remember slightly my step grandfather “Billy Graham”.
As the story goes, told to me by my mother and Dad: my Grandmother and Granddaddy were coming to see me and I was suppose to call them Ma and Pa. I was just learning to talk and they had me all pumped up to meet both my grandparents. We went to Washington, DC to meet the train. I had never seen a train and I was all excited about this new adventure as well. Upon arrival of the train, and evidently confused when my Grandmother got off alone, I called her “MaPa.” My mom said that from the time I met ‘MaPa’ until she left to go back home we had a tight inseparable bond. I kept hugging her and patting her face and arms calling her ‘MaPa’ no matter how much my parents tried to explain she was Ma and Pa had not come. Later she put me in the NONO chair, not realizing the chair’s significance. I had not done anything wrong and Mom said I yelled like crazy as I clung to her in a bear-like hug, “No, MaPa …I good girl, I good girl.” After this my grandmother was so delighted she wanted to be called “MaPa.”

I do not know what I called my step-granddad, but I do remember him and his patience with me. He was always lifting me up to talk to me, instead of leaning down. MaPa was a serene, smiling, loving Grandmother. She always talked in this quiet, matter of fact manner. She never raised her voice even when Margie’s daughter Marguerite decided to let Peggy and I take a drag off the cigarette she had stolen from my Mother when we visited MaPa in Sea Girt. She always took Peggy’s and my side over Mom and Dad’s. She always managed to explain away our mischievousness or should I say my mischief behavior. Peggy was always good; she is a lot like MaPa.

When she died of a heart attack, (I think), Peg and I had gone to school after Dad told us about MaPa’s death. We were both upset, especially when he told us that Mom had gone to NY to send her to heaven. On that same day, I remember my teacher reprimanding me for being late for school and I was to take a seat in the back of the classroom instead of my usual seat. I started crying calling her a “mean ole ugly lady” and hysterically yelling that my ‘MaPa’ had died and she was on her way to heaven. I stumped my feet telling her I would sit where I wanted to sit and proceeded to sit in my desk up front. My outburst created havoc with some of the students for they gasped in shock and excitement on my public display, while others started crying along with me. Needless, to say…Dad had a mess of hurt feelings to clean-up after my reported outburst. Reluctantly, I did apologize later to the teacher and the class. (This was part of my discipline. To be honest, I very much did NOT want to apologize). She was one of my favorite teachers even after the commotion that I had created.

I have always regretted that my sisters, Strawn and Gay, did not get to know ‘MaPa’ for she was such a beautiful soul. This is my real granddad William "Guy" and this necklace was made by Peggy. Note the jewels of today are like those worn by MaPa back in 1943.