“I’m saying this is the South. And we’re proud of our crazy people.
We don’t hide them up in the attic.We bring ’em right down to the living room and show ’em off...
no one in the South ever asks if you have crazy people in your family.
They just ask what side they’re on.” — Julia Sugarbaker, “Designing Women”
I think that Julia Sugarbaker's remark about Southerners and their "crazy" people is funny and so accurate! Crazy isn't truly mentally ill; crazy really means eccentric. And no one need ask me what side of the family my crazy people are on--it's an easy answer, BOTH SIDES! My favorite crazy relative was my Aunt Reba, my Grandmother Crenshaw's only sister and her complete opposite. My grandmother was a rather taciturn person; her motto was "Pass and
re-pass." Aunt Reba was loud,
bossy, and very out-going. Her motto was "Any attention is good
attention." Please understand; Aunt Reba would not be at all
offended at my telling her tales. She would absolutely be reveling in
the attention.
The James family was a typical farming family in rural Georgia. They lived in Perkins, no longer in existence. Perkins was near Milledgeville, where the Georgia State Institution for the Insane was located. Ironic, in my opinion. They were sharecroppers, and all the kids had to work in the fields, especially when it was time to chop cotton. All of them except Aunt Reba. Apparently, Reba was the favorite daughter, as she told me many times, and she did housework and, as Grandmother would say, she laid up while the others worked hard. Aunt Reba said she didn't have to work in the fields because she was Scarlett O'Hara, and Scarlett didn't get her hands dirty when someone else could.
Grandmother and Aunt Reba would argue, until they both passed, about things from their childhoods and early adulthood. Apparently, Reba was quite the flirt; Grandmother, not so much. One of the earliest stories I remember their arguing about was Aunt Reba's first marriage. She went out on a
date with her beau, and they were late returning home. So, she did what any nice Southern
girl would do in that situation. She eloped. She figured her
daddy wouldn't be as upset when she got home from the date married,
instead of just being late. Grandmother's
opinion of this story was that Reba shouldn't have been going out with
boys in the first place. And this was a cautionary tale for me--don't
miss curfew, or you might have to marry that boy. In fact, maybe it's just better if you don't start dating at all.
Sometime in the late 1920's or early 1930's, most of the James family moved to Miami.Aunt Reba took Grandmother under her wing and introduced her to Miami's nightlife. As Aunt Reba told one story, they all went out to a speakeasy in Miami. Sometime during the night, they needed to use the ladies' room. Inside was a statue of a nearly nude man, who had a fig leaf over his unmentionables. There was a sign that said, "Don't lift the leaf." Aunt Reba swears that Grandmother lifted the leaf for a little peek, and when she did so, it set off an alarm. Everyone was looking when they made a hasty retreat back out into the speakeasy. Grandmother always maintained that Aunt Reba lifted the leaf because she would never do such a thing. It's a mystery as to who lifted the leaf, but I always wished I could have seen the two of them scurrying out of that restroom--especially my quiet Grandmother.
Aunt Reba did divorce her late-curfew husband, and I never knew him. But I knew her second husband, my Uncle Frank, very well. He was such a nice, gentle man, except when it came to Aunt Reba. Theirs was a relationship that thrived on conflict I don't think there was one thing that they held the same opinion about. I remember their bickering a lot about the amount of shoes Aunt Reba owned. I thought Uncle Frank was exaggerating until I spent the night at their house. You literally could not get to her bed because the floor was covered in shoes. The closet was full of shoes. Uncle Frank had his own bedroom, and I think some of her shoes sneaked in there too. The other major source of conflict was Dolly, Uncle Frank's pekinese. That dog lived to be over 25 years old, and that only because Uncle Frank took her everywhere (except church). He carried her all the time, and she always sat on his lap or right next to him, bumping Aunt Reba out of her place. He carried a little china dish so Dolly never missed a meal. When Dolly needed to go out, he carried her and just put her down to take care of business. Dolly was too precious to even walk by herself. When Dolly passed, Uncle Frank had her buried in the pet cemetery in Miami. He told all of us that when he passed into glory, he wanted to be buried next to Dolly because he'd get no peace in the hereafter if he was buried near Aunt Reba. He said she'd be complaining, even when she was in Heaven. Uncle Frank did pass first, but the pet cemetery wasn't zoned for people. I know my long-suffering Uncle Frank just sighed and then enjoyed Heaven. And hoped it would be a long time before Aunt Reba joined him there.
Aunt Reba did divorce her late-curfew husband, and I never knew him. But I knew her second husband, my Uncle Frank, very well. He was such a nice, gentle man, except when it came to Aunt Reba. Theirs was a relationship that thrived on conflict I don't think there was one thing that they held the same opinion about. I remember their bickering a lot about the amount of shoes Aunt Reba owned. I thought Uncle Frank was exaggerating until I spent the night at their house. You literally could not get to her bed because the floor was covered in shoes. The closet was full of shoes. Uncle Frank had his own bedroom, and I think some of her shoes sneaked in there too. The other major source of conflict was Dolly, Uncle Frank's pekinese. That dog lived to be over 25 years old, and that only because Uncle Frank took her everywhere (except church). He carried her all the time, and she always sat on his lap or right next to him, bumping Aunt Reba out of her place. He carried a little china dish so Dolly never missed a meal. When Dolly needed to go out, he carried her and just put her down to take care of business. Dolly was too precious to even walk by herself. When Dolly passed, Uncle Frank had her buried in the pet cemetery in Miami. He told all of us that when he passed into glory, he wanted to be buried next to Dolly because he'd get no peace in the hereafter if he was buried near Aunt Reba. He said she'd be complaining, even when she was in Heaven. Uncle Frank did pass first, but the pet cemetery wasn't zoned for people. I know my long-suffering Uncle Frank just sighed and then enjoyed Heaven. And hoped it would be a long time before Aunt Reba joined him there.
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