Grandma Onie was from a town deep in East Texas called Athens. She lived by herself across the highway from my Uncle Woodrow and Aunt Thelma, in a little white frame house with green trim that was deep in the woods. My family would visit her and sleep in her feather beds — mattresses you would sink way down in and could never crawl out of until morning. She kept her own geese for making feather beds. We drank water from a bucket that came from a well that was located in her back yard. The bucket always set on the back porch with a communal dipper. She had no indoor plumbing so we had to go to the outhouse and use chamber pots at night. I still recall the time, early one morning; that I stepped in the full chamber pot that was sitting on the back porch and knocked it over! I can still hear my Grandma yelling at me over that mess I made! I had on shoes and socks, and, of course I ruined one shoe and one sock along with all my little girl dignity. The outhouse was far enough from the house that “us kids” (whatever cousins and siblings that were around at the time) would hide behind (no pun intended) trees waiting for someone to use the outhouse, then when they went in we would get a stick and poke the poor soul in the rear! We had access to the proximity of their bottoms because there was only a half door on the back of the outhouse that I’m sure was put there for aeration. The victim would scream and think they were bitten by a snake or pecked by one of my Grandma’s hens, and we children would be delighted! Later on, when we were older, Grandma got indoor plumbing but it was never as much fun.
Grandma Onie had a habit of talking with her hands and arms. She would get excited and be waving all over the place. I’ve seen old 8mm films with her in them and you knew when she was talking excitedly about something even if you couldn’t hear her because of her arms waving in the air.
Grandma did something I thought was very unusual for a Grandma—she dipped snuff. Dipping snuff is a southern habit of putting tobacco in your mouth under your lip and letting the saliva collect in your mouth until you have to “spit”, then you spit into an old can filled with a little dirt. It was a pretty disgusting habit, but I thought it was exotic at the time. My Grandma always smelled of sweet snuff tobacco, which I thought made her smell exotic too.
Grandma Onie had inner strength. She had been a widow living alone for many years and I never heard her complain about it or for the lack of her material possessions. I found her example to be so helpful when I became a widow. She simply went on after my Granpa died and gave her many grandchildren her time and her love and I try to do that too. She never had much extra in life but was always content with what she had. She gave all of us the example of going to church. She went to church at Crossroad Baptist church all of her life. She didn’t seem to be afraid of anything. In fact, she read True Detective magazines at night and they looked really scary to me. The pictures on the cover of the magazines gave me nightmares, and of course, my mother never allowed me to look inside. Her adventuresome spirit led her to go on vacation with any of her children who would take her. She was ready to do new things which is unusual for an older person.
Grandma’s real name was Mary Iona Trammell Pierce and that is why we called her Grandma Onie. She had married my Grandpa Burl Cook Trammell in 1912. My Grandpa (a county sheriff) had died in October of 1948 which was the month and year I was born so I never knew him. Since my Grandma was a widow she was free to travel around to her children’s homes. She had lots of children to see: (my Dad), B.C., J.B., Woodrow, and Buddy were the sons, and daughters were Pat, Olive, and Eula. She had many grandchildren. Every Christmas at her home she would have a box of panties for the girls and a box of socks for the boys. Whoever got there first, got the pick of the box.
There were many wonderful holiday get togethers at Grandma Onies. Of course, I remember the ones that were personal catastrophes for myself. Once I had on a new Lady and the Tramp skirt with petticoats on underneath that I tore on the barbed wire fence. Another time I crawled under Grandma’s house to get the new kittens and when I crawled back out I had more than kittens—I had cat poop all over my clothes! The grandchildren had wonderful times playing in the woods. We would make outlines of rooms with chucked corncobs and play in our “houses” for hours.
Waiting for a visit from my Grandma was exciting. Not only did we love seeing her, she came to make clothes for my older sister Shirley, shirts for my older brother David, and clothes for me (when she wasn’t visiting us she would make extra money by sewing for other people). I would see her get out of the car with her Singer sewing machine, her dark hair covered with a hairnet, her gold-rimmed glasses, homemade dress, matching “earbobs” and necklace, and cute little flats, and I always knew she was glad to see me. I thought my Grandma had beautiful, natural, coal black hair. I told my first grade teacher this and when I repeated what I had told her to my mother she shared it with all my aunts. They had a big laugh because, unknown to me, Grandma dyed her hair.
Touching the material my Grandma laid out to make me a dress made me shiver with excitement. I remember a material that was beautiful and had gold design printed on it—I couldn’t wait until it was made into a dress! I loved coming home from school when Grandma was there, walking in the front door, and hearing the hum of the sewing machine. That meant Grandma was working on new clothes for me. Usually when I took off my school clothes to change into play clothes, I would try on whatever she was making me, to see if it would fit. Not only did my Grandma sew when she came to see us, she liked going to the movies with us kids. She didn’t mind seeing the kid movies. I remember she took me to see Cinderella and she loved seeing how beautiful Cinderella was as much as I did.
Grandma was an accomplished cook, a true southern cook. Her macaroni and cheese was to die for. Of course, most of her cooking floated in butter or grease, but that was the southern way. I looked forward to her cooking when she came to visit. The best part of a visit from her was that we had her all to ourselves, we didn’t have to share her with anyone. I knew she loved me and I loved her, but our family was never outwardly affectionate. When I was in junior high she had a massive stroke and never regained consciousness so there were no goodbyes. Again, my family was not very outwardly grief-stricken either. I wish now that I would have told her how much I loved and appreciated her. The memories I have of her are very precious to me now. In fact, my memories show a flawed woman in some ways, as all of us become flawed to others if we know someone long enough we will become aware of their flaws. But I can see some of Proverbs 31 in her as well:
“She selects wool and flax and works with eager hands. She sets about her work vigorously; her arms are strong for her tasks. She makes coverings for her bed; she is clothed in fine linen and purple. She makes linen garments and sells them, and supplies the merchants with sashes. She is clothed with strength and dignity; she can laugh at the days to come. She speaks with wisdom and faithful instruction is on her tongue. She watches over the affairs of her household and does not eat the bread of idleness. Her children arise and call her blessed.” Goodbye sweet Grandma Onie, I will see you on the other side.