Granddaughter

I am a granddaughter. That's the first descriptor I used for myself. I'll describe all of my grandparents today and then next week go into each individually.

On my mother's side there was

• Great-Grandma Stricklin. Her grandmother was full-blood Cherokee, but you couldn't tell that Grandma wasn't also full-blood Cherokee. In fact, the nose didn't disappear in our genetic lineage until my generation--and not one of my sibling cousins has it, but 3 of my mom's brothers have it. She was one of those people who could see nothing but the good in people. I loved her with the love of a child who is accepted unconditionally for herself.
• Grandma Morris. She was my mother's mother, and Grandma Stricklin's oldest child--born when she was barely 16! She was one of those knobbly scary witchy looking old women who could see NO good in anyone. I feared her, actually.
• Papa Morris. My mother's father was a funny person who always laughed--usually at the expense of other people. I remember being SO angry at him for calling my mother "fatso" and I always tried to "cure" the harm he did her by calling her my "skinny mama." Don't get me wrong. He wasn't a mean person, but I've never been able to deal with people being mean to each other, so he made me feel uncomfortable.

On my dad's side:

• Grandma Thornton: Red-headed, big bosomed, and sweet as you can imagine. She LOVES her soaps, taught me to read with Wheel of Fortune, taught me math by playing dominos, and somehow instilled in each of her daughters (myself included, but that will make sense later) a fierce independence so that they didn't have to depend on a man for getting along in life.
• Papa Thornton: He was a tall, lanky straight backed man up until right before he died. He was always so tolerant of my silliness and curiosity, but would brook NO interference with his rules.

I always believed Papa Thornton and Grandma Stricklin would live forever, so when they died it was a terrific shock to me. Up until the last few years of her life Grandma Morris was so mean I didn't think she would die, but she did anyway, Papa Morris was always in such poor health, it seems like we were at the hospital waiting for him to die every other year.

And Grandma Thornton lives on at 94. Her last friend died just this past week--she said she's "all alone now." A feeling that has to be so lonely and sad.