Granny, 01/28/1922 - 01/26/2011

Her name was Johnna Mae Hughes, also known in life as daughter, sister, wife, mother, friend.  But for me and her five other grandchildren she was, "Granny."

{With her brother, Elton. Granny was one of thirteen children.}

Growing up, Granny was quick to remind me of my status as the first girl born into the Hughes family in over fifty years.  After decades of muddy shoes and rough and tumble boys, Granny's talented hands found their way to frilly lace, pink rosettes, and delicate embroidery.  Granny made sure her first granddaughter and her granddaughter's Cabbage Patch dolls were dressed as girly as possible.  When I found out I was pregnant with my firstborn - a girl! - we pulled out a few of those dresses and I was struck with the skill that went into them.  What a gift it will be to see those petticoat dresses, made so many years ago, twirling into the 3rd generation. 

A few of her frilly creations:

As a child I spent two weeks every summer with Granny and Granddaddy in Winnsboro, TX.  Granny made sure those summers were memorable.  One summer she took on the task of teaching a not-so-appreciative pre-teen how to sew.  We sat side by side, surrounded by scraps from the dresses she made me thru the years.  The remnants we pieced together into squares, the squares blocks, the blocks into one of Granny's beautiful quilts.  Quilts were Granny's labor of love.  She made one for each grandchild to celebrate momentous occasions in their lives such as weddings and births. 

Other memories from summers spent in Winnsboro include shopping trips to "Wal-marts" and Furrs cafeteria in Sulphur Springs.  As a pre-teen and teenager she took me to the big mall in Tyler.  There were summers at the lake with water slides and swimming.  We rented movies, went to the community pool, and watched "her story" - Days of Our Lives - everyday on TV.  I remember Paint by Number and swinging outside at dusk with she and Granddaddy.  Visiting with the neighbors Berl and Eva and playing restaurant with their granddaughter.  There were visits from the Avon lady and walks to church each Sunday.  Most evenings we would sit on the back porch at the end of the day, as the weather cooled.  As we sat looking out at her clothesline and the large barrel that collected rainwater she would tell me stories of a difficult childhood, of playing basketball on the sly with a pair of homemade shorts hidden beneath her skirt.

So many memories of Granny take shape in objects, knick-knacks, and food.  A bright pink bathroom complete with pink Avon bubble bath and a pink toilet seat cushion that went "poof" when you sat down.  Ceramic dogs bought for her boys that lined the headboard of the guest bed.  Purple plastic grapes.  Ceramic jam and jelly jars in the shapes of a little boy and girl that sat on the bottom of the console table by the kitchen.  Snickers bars for Missy the dog.  A hair net and toilet paper wrapped tightly around her elaborately coiffed head each night.  Coconut pie.  Chocolate pie. Cheesy green rice. Dominoes for Beenie Weenie.  Uno cards. Skip-Bo.

In remembering Granny over the past few days I've come to realize the influence her life has been on mine; what she has taught me as a wife, mother, woman.  As a wife she taught me the value of knowing your husband well.  She knew Granddaddy well.  Knew when to give him space.  Knew what he liked to eat and was tolerant of his obsession with building a fire.  Granny respected her husband in word and action.  He respected her in return and playfully teased her, loved her.  She knew Granddaddy's soft spots too.  As a grown woman I now understand why she sent ME to ask Granddaddy about that Dachshund puppy we found on the trip back from Sulphur Springs.  She knew he couldn't resist his little granddaughter.  So with his permission, Granny and I bought Dustin the puppy the next day.

As a mother she's taught me that the best ways to love your family are sometimes the most practical.  Granny would wake up early and step over grandchildren sleeping on floor pallets, to prepare breakfast for a house full of family.  The clanging of pots and pans would rouse us from our slumber and we would slowly, one by one, make our way to the kitchen.  To homemade biscuits with white gravy, bacon.  And lots and lots of laughter.  Through practical service Granny created an environment that allowed for memories to be made, joy to be shared.

And finally, as a woman she's taught me to never get too big for my britches, to love unconditionally, and to give kisses to those I love - straight on the mouth!  I love you Granny.  Thanks for being a beloved patch in the quilt that makes me who I am today.