The executive editor of The Augusta Press, Debbie van Tuyll, thought it may be an interesting idea to share my thoughts and experiences as a grandparent, as Sept. 10 is Grandparents Day. So, here goes.
I didn’t grow up having a grandfather. One had already left this Earth, and one had left for parts unknown when I arrived upon this spinning planet.
I did have two grandmothers who were as different from each other as two people could be. Not in stature, but in personality.
My mother’s mother lived with my own mother and father, I think since the day they were married. Although my mother had three brothers and two sisters, my mother was the baby, so she got custody of my grandmother. I guess that is how that worked.
I often wondered as I got older how in the world my father managed to endure that dynamic all those years. Both a wife and mother-in-law living in the same house.
My only rational reckoning was that he was actively involved in both World War II and the Korean War so that dealing with a live-in mother-in-law must have been a walk in the park.
My mother and father were from the Wrens, Stapleton and the Gough, Ga. area, so when they married and moved to Augusta, I guess that was much like country comes to town, or to be more precise, country came to Harrisburg.
What a great childhood! I grew up with a strong family bond, and all of us worked hard to make a good life.
My sister and I learned many lifelong lessons. It was from my grandmother I learned how to measure a board, saw it to length and then hammer and nail it in place.
My father was busy working every day to make sure we had what we needed, not necessarily what all we wanted. My grandmother was a well-rounded person. “Mama” as we called her, somehow had learned how to build things.
One summer she and my mother went out to the sawmill and bought scrap boards that cost $2 for a pickup truck load. Well, we didn’t have a pickup truck, so they filled the trunk, backseat and tied boards to the top of the car and brought the lumber home. It took several trips to get all the wood they needed home.
Now, what came out of all that lumber was a 10-foot by 12-foot utility house. Back then, you would call it a wash house. It had built-in cabinets and a fold-down-from-the-wall folding table.
Yep, Mama taught me about building. My mother and Mama were kind of like Lucy and Ethel. They were always up to something.
We would go out to my uncle’s farm in McBean and pick peas, butter beans and corn. Afterwards, we would come home, shell and husk the produce and then can the yield.
Yes, as a young boy I was taught the art of canning food. My sister and I even learned how to cook from Mama.
I was also taught how to wash and iron clothes and even sew a button on a shirt. My grandmother would always say: “A woman don’t mind raising a boy, but she ain’t wanting to raise a man.” I guess that falls under the don’t ask someone to do something that you can’t do for yourself.
My, my how times have changed.
So, from the beginning I was taught a work ethic. I can say it has stayed with me for life. I learned much from my mother’s mother.
Now, my father’s mother lived at the old homestead in Wrens, so every other Sunday we would ride down to Wrens for the day. All the grandchildren called her ” Big Mama.” To this day I don’t know why. I don’t even recall her looking to weigh over 110 pounds.
We would go early so that my sister and I could attend Sunday school and church with the other children. Church was always a focal point of a small community, and Wrens was no different.
After church, we all would gather back at Big Mama’s house for that mouthwatering Sunday dinner that consisted of fried chicken, rice and gravy, black eyed peas, butter beans and yams.
Big Mama was an excellent cook. But when it comes to biscuits, forget about it. That woman made the worst biscuits imaginable. No one dared to tell her though. Her biscuits always turned out about the size of a golf ball and almost as hard.
No one would ever dare tell her how bad they were. We didn’t and wouldn’t hurt her feelings for anything in this world. So, someone suggested that cornbread would be a good addition to dinner. Big Mama made wonderful cornbread in that big, heavy cast iron skillet.
So, we would eat the cornbread and pocket the biscuits. Later we would be in the field tossing them back and forth and throwing them at each other. We had to stop doing that when one of us hit the dog in the head and knocked him loopy.
Big Mama taught us how to churn homemade ice cream. She would even put peaches, blackberries and pecans in the churn, and boy was that good.
I carry all those memories of my grandmothers to this day.
When my children came along, I was too busy working and being out on the road making a living to be what I now consider to be a good father. I wanted to make sure that my children and family had better than what I had when I was growing up. Somewhere along the way, I lost time, experiences and togetherness with my children that I could never get back.
I lost the lessons that my parents and grandparents taught me. It’s not always “about the Benjamins” that make a child rich. It’s about the time and guidance that children are given.
My children turned out to be good people. Thank goodness. My wife did an excellent job. When I was home, I spent a lot of time with my children. The thing that they learned from me was that in order to have what you need, you have to work for it.
And proudly, my kids did learn how to have a good work ethic.
When my grandchildren came along, I set myself to be the best grandparent I could be, but you will have to ask them how I did.
My grandchildren all turned out to be good, hard-working adults. But, as youngsters, my two granddaughters thought I was an ATM machine. In fact, they had a tee shirt made especially for me that read, “I am my granddaughter’s ATM.” No foolin’.
My two granddaughters have given me four great-grandchildren. One has a daughter and the other has two boys and a daughter. I am no longer considered to be a mere ATM machine. I have become a bank branch.
I say that tongue in cheek. They never really ask for much. My great-granddaughter is 14 and is deeply involved with the arts. My children say she gets that from my love for music and theater. The one thing I know for sure she inherited from me is her dry humor and wit.
I have tried to teach her that the field of endeavor that she wants to be in consists of a lot of rejections for a number of reasons. Doesn’t mean that you’re not good enough but maybe not exactly right for the part. It’s all conjecture and opinion.
She seems to understand that.
One day I was complaining about how the news and media always portrayed us commissioners as inept and self-minded.
I asked why the media couldn’t single out instead of grouping us all together. Now with all the thoughtfulness and with no hesitation of a then 11 year old, she stated: “You’re judged by the company you keep. You keep company with them. Therefore, you are judged.”
I think that was the day I became a “me” and not a “them.” The wisdom of a child.
My 14-year-old great-grandson is involved in sports. He’s got a good arm and can throw a football and baseball very well. He plays on his school’s team and attends camps to train. I give him all the moral support that I can.
Other than that, I have learned from watching other parents and grandparents make complete fools of themselves at games to stay out of it. I am proud of him.
My eight-year-old great-grandson says he wants to be a break dancer. HUH? Where in the world did he come up with that? I’m sure next week it will be something else.
Now my, just turned, one-year-old great-granddaughter has learned how to walk. She’s still wobbly and doesn’t want her mother out of her sight.
The things that I have learned the most from my grandparents and from being a grandparent is just to be there. Be that shoulder to cry on and not make judgements and don’t give too much advice when it’s not asked for. I try to be morally supportive.
I’ve also learned that grandchildren and children can be forgiving. I can truly say I’ve been blessed.
Now, I would be remiss if I didn’t share some other matters with you.
I must share this bit of Augusta commission shame. By shame, I mean what they did in this past week’s commission meeting.
On the agenda was a request from Mayor Garnett Johnson to have each department within the Augusta-Richmond County Consolidated Government model a 5% to 10% budget cut to include the general and expenditure funding accounts.
Commissioner Bobby Williams led off with asking how the directors were to know what to cut if they’re not told.
Really? That was a serious question?
If they don’t know, then they have no business heading a department.
Of course, Commissioner Stacy Pulliam had to ask three different times if it was a directive to cut or a working guide of sorts. As long as it wasn’t a directive, then it was OK.
Commissioner Jordon Johnson had to share his brilliance on the subject. He saw no need for any budget cuts.
Meanwhile, Commissioners Tony Lewis and Francine Scott stared at their cell phone screens awaiting their instructions via text on what to do.
All in all, the “Fab Five” were having none of it. They didn’t see the need, even though the federal money tree that has helped the fund the government over the past few years no longer bears fruit.
So, either Commissioner Frantom or Garrett made a substitute motion of a suggested 3% to 5% cut. It was seconded and voted on.
Commissioners McKnight and Mason were not at the meeting. Therefore, the vote was 5 to 3 not to pass the measure.
Commissioners Garrett, Frantom and Gilfoyle voted YES, while Commissioners Williams, Johnson, Pulliam, Lewis and Scott voted NO.
One of the “Fab Five” made a motion to accept as information and it was seconded and passed.
Keep in mind the ones that do not want to cut taxes, spending or terminate any under-performing department directors.
Folks, as always, you can’t make this stuff up.
