tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-132472722011-04-21T18:10:34.284-07:00blogsbywomenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14212461375352129387noreply@blogger.comBlogger121100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13247272.post-1117637424181619782005-06-01T07:54:00.000-07:002005-06-01T07:50:24.186-07:00

Gramps never trusted banks. Maybe I should say she never trusted the concept of handing her hard earned money over to a white person who promised they would take care of it for her. We must remember the time period she grew up in and the things she saw. Most Black people her age hid their money at home instead of taking it to a bank. Besides, the concept of money growing over time was so foreign

blogsbywomenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14212461375352129387noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13247272.post-1117555629784226792005-05-31T09:55:00.000-07:002005-05-31T09:07:09.786-07:00

I am a coffee addict. I'm sitting in the local coffee shop hijacking a ride on their free Wi Fi and it just occurred to me that I had my first taste of coffee when I was about 11 or 12 years old.My grandmother drank coffee every morning. She used a tiny perculator that sat directly on the burner. When the perculator whistled, she would pour the water into her cup, then add two spoonfuls of

blogsbywomenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14212461375352129387noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13247272.post-1117554457379800822005-05-31T08:37:00.000-07:002005-05-31T08:47:37.383-07:00

Gramps always fed my pains with food. After that stopped working, she would tell me God would make everything alright. I preferred food to God when I was a little girl.I loved Gramps' sweet potato bread. She would make that as a snack for the kids to eat after school. It was her sweet potato pie, but without the crust. She would oil the bottom of a square baking pan and pour the batter in. Bake

blogsbywomenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14212461375352129387noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13247272.post-1117462594795415702005-05-30T06:59:00.000-07:002005-05-30T07:16:34.800-07:00

As a child, I remember lots of children running through my grandmother's house. It was a large old house with hardwood floors and lots of broken things. It also had lots of pretty things in locked cabinets. A crown I won at a Little Ms. Sapphorette's Pageant was one of them. I was about 8 years old and my mother entered me in the annual pageant at the American Legion post. I could dance and

blogsbywomenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14212461375352129387noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13247272.post-1117401642525746142005-05-29T13:54:00.000-07:002005-05-29T14:20:42.530-07:00

I called Gramps today and requested an interview, telling her about this blog and its purpose. She can be quite the embarrassed school girl when all eyes are on her. She was pleased to answer my questions, questions I was surprised I'd never asked before.---------begin -------------- Me: Do you know if you are a direct descendant of slaves? Gramps: I heard my mama's mama and daddy were

blogsbywomenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14212461375352129387noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13247272.post-1117358063623414872005-05-28T09:58:00.000-07:002005-05-29T02:14:23.626-07:00

Today was very difficult for me. I recently lost someone I cared for very deeply and I'm allowing myself to feel the pain. I'm usually pretty closed off to emotion and I've been uninterested in opening up to anyone for a long time. But, for this person I opened. And now, I am feeling what people feel when you lose a real connection. Perhaps that's why I need to reconnect with the one woman

blogsbywomenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14212461375352129387noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13247272.post-1117356918853865552005-05-26T13:01:00.000-07:002005-05-29T01:57:01.776-07:00

I'll introduce a cast of characters who play very interesting roles in my grandmother's life, but for now I want to talk about a woman who was her next door neighbor for a very long time: Ms. BD. I've shortened her name, not to protect her but because I really can't figure out what her name is. As we were growing up, she was called one thing, but as I started typing this, I realized that wasn't

blogsbywomenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14212461375352129387noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13247272.post-1117353431712803712005-05-25T08:41:00.000-07:002005-05-29T00:59:52.993-07:00

It never really registered that my Gramps was a criminal until one day I heard all the grownups whispering about the man. "The man's coming," they kept saying. It was an unusually quiet day in Gramps' kitchen and my aunt kept turning people away at the door. The only people at the kitchen table that afternoon were children playing a mock game of grownup spades. A few other aunts were placing full

blogsbywomenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14212461375352129387noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13247272.post-1117349501561688312005-05-24T19:18:00.000-07:002005-05-28T23:54:21.110-07:00

A few days after gramps walked me to the hospital, she annouced I would live with her for a little while until my mother could clear her head. Mama checked herself into a mental hospital long enough to figure out how to manipulate the system -- something I learned quite painfully later on.My 2 sisters, brother, and myself all moved in with gramps for about 8 weeks. She had a very large old home

blogsbywomenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14212461375352129387noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13247272.post-1117346977999111572005-05-23T17:44:00.000-07:002005-05-29T14:34:49.513-07:00

It was cold that night. I remember hearing her heart racing. It felt warm being pressed against her chest."Lord, why'd this chil' do this to this baby?" she repeated over and over.She kept walking. Her breathing was heavy.I tasted blood.When I was 24 years old I started having this dream once every other night or so. At first, I had this dream only while I slept. And then, the dream started

blogsbywomenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14212461375352129387noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13247272.post-1117345345793969152005-05-21T22:10:00.000-07:002005-05-29T00:58:28.556-07:00

On Sundays, when daytime soaps weren't available, gramps would watch marathon runs of westerns. She loved John Wayne. Gunsmoke was her favorite. She also enjoyed Bonanza and Petticoat Junction. I would crawl into bed with her and curl under the covers, pretending to have some interest in "her shows." That's what she called them. "Her shows." That's what she called her favorite daytime soaps, too.

blogsbywomenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14212461375352129387noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13247272.post-1117335677111255012005-05-21T19:37:00.000-07:002005-05-28T22:10:25.610-07:00

When I mention my grandmother's career choice people laugh. They don't believe me. My grandmother was a bootlegger. We lived in a dry county and the only alcohol you could buy was beer. Well now, my grandmother made a business opportunity out of that! For 30 years, my gramps (that's what I usually call her) served hard liquor to the old men, young men, old women, and young women in our town --

blogsbywomenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14212461375352129387noreply@blogger.com