Tuesday, July 21, 2009

Granny get your broom

The thing I like most about older people is that they will tell you exactly what is on their mind with little regard to feelings or appropriateness.

Growing up I lived very close to my great-grandparents so I spent a lot of time around them, especially my grandmother. She was a very sweet woman who was at church every time the doors were open. Sure she was there to read the Bible and praise the Lord, but she was also there to catch up on the latest gossip and swap stories with the other ol' biddies sweet Christian ladies. One of the things I remember most is the way she would slap her knees and say, Theeeeey Looooord, you don't mean it, with her thick southern drawl every time she heard the latest rumor going around the neighborhood.

Now my grandfather, Curt, was a different story. By the time I came along he was half-deaf, could barely see and spent most of his time sitting on the front porch chewing tobacco. Whenever I would walk up on the porch he would always call me by my mother's name and say, Terrie, is that you? Which would inevitably send my grandmother into a fussing fit that ended with her calling him a crazy old bat and slamming the screen door. The amazing thing about his hearing is he didn't have your typical case of elderly hard-hearing, oh no, he had selective hearing. He could hear a whisper a mile away if it was about him, but couldn't have a decent conversation if you were standing right in his face.

So one day, when I was around 10 years old, I walked down to the grandparent's house with the intention of sneaking one of Grandma's lemon juice packets out the of the fridge. For the most part I was usually unsuccessful because as soon as I would get in the kitchen and open the refrigerator door she would always yell, Girl, you better not be getting my lemon for my tea or I'll get a hickory and whip your ass. So I always had to settle for some Diet Rite cola and a Fudge Round.

On this particular day Grandma decided she was going to vent about the crazy old bat sitting on the front porch and my poor unsuspecting little old self was just going to have to sit and listen. So, she started fussing and he started hollering, Virgina, I hear you in there, don't make me get up woman, and she looked at me and we laughed because we both knew the man couldn't move fast enough to catch a snail even if his pants were on fire.

So dear sweet Grandma, with her Bible sitting on the bedside table probably with freshly turned pages from her morning devotion, decided she was going to tell me about the time she came home and caught ol' Curt in bed with another woman.

I came home one afternoon and there he was with some hussy right there in my bedroom. I was madder than old wet hen.

Me, having no idea what they would have been doing in the bedroom and thinking she probably just didn't want company in her room because that is where she threw all of the clutter and shut the door like my mom did when we had company, asked her what did she say to the lady.

I grabbed my broom and I started beating the hell out of that girl and she took off running out of the front door and she was whooping and hollering and didn't even have her brassiere on when she went running down the road.

Of course, I was sitting there wide-eyed and thinking she was trying on Grandma's clothes, no wonder she was so upset. My God, he was giving her clothes away.

She went on to say that she came back in the house and took her broom and beat the hell out that drunk old fool she was married to and made him get up and wash her sheets because back then they didn't have a washer and dryer and she wasn't about to break her back cleaning up after his mess. All of which went right over my head and I wasn't sure if she was trying to tell me to be sure to get a washer and dryer when I got older or to make sure my husband knew how to make up the bed.

Although I am still not sure why she felt the need to share that wonderful and inappropriate story with her young, innocent, and naive granddaughter that day, but I am glad she did. I just love it every time my husband asks me why I keep a broom in the bedroom closet and I tell him just in case he ever decides to give my clothes away.

Thanks, Grandma.


  1. Great story! My Grandma always tried to give me food off her plate. Um, I've seen the glass where you keep your teeth. No thanks.

  2. Thanks! Isn't it funny the things we remember about our grandparents?!

  3. Theeeeeeeeeeey Looooooooord, you don't say. I love it!!!!

  4. Great story... I've got a bat... brooms break. hahaha. jk.