Daddy, Part II

Joe Crenshaw, c. 1935

I've written one blog about my daddy. I wrote about his humor, his work ethic, his teaching me how to be a good employee. I also mentioned that he became a widower in 1968. He had three children to care for--my brother (9), my sister (2), and me (12). Until I was 35, I didn't realize how young he was and what short time he had with Mommy--just 13 years. I think for all of us, those first two years were very difficult. His mother, Grandmother to us, came to help take care of us at first. Then my brother and I were sent away to Okeechobee for the next summer. The most difficult thing is when Daddy remarried only nine months after Mommy's death. When we got home from Okeechobee, there was new furniture, new sleeping arrangements (well, for me--we also gained a step-sister), new household rules. It was a trying time for all of us. More change came when our new step-mother left, and they divorced after only seven months of marriage. 

Daddy, who really had been good-natured, seemed to change overnight. He was angry at my step-mother, at first. However, slowly, that anger turned against my brother and me. Especially me. He punished us by not letting Grandmother move back in to care for us; he just expected me to clean, to cook, to go to school, and to care for my brother every day. The daddy who took us to the beach for evening swims, who made us a go-cart, who rarely punished us became cold and emotionally hurtful. Finally, Grandmother persuaded him to let her come and care for all of us.

Things were a little better. Grandmother could have a calming effect on Daddy when he was very angry. He decided to stop buying me things like clothes and school supplies. He figured that I could baby-sit and use that money to buy what I needed. And I did. I can remember Grandmother arguing with him about getting me clothes for school, and he finally gave in and gave her money to take me shopping. Still, I had lost the daddy of my childhood. 

He rarely praised me for anything. To be honest, I stayed in my room as much as I could. There were still times of laughter and fun, but we did not have the same relationship I saw my friends have with their dads.

I wish there was a happy ending to this tale. After I graduated high school and worked for  year, I started college. I can remember during my second semester, Daddy starting asking me about what I was studying. He noticed that my friends and I would sing while I played the piano, and he got the piano tuned for me. Daddy actually liked my friends coming over and hanging out. He no longer made me pay rent. I can remember one Tuesday afternoon so clearly. I was sitting at the kitchen table, typing up my first long college paper. I was tapping along, and he came over. He picked up my finished pages and started reading. "Did you write this yourself?" "Yes." He just shook his head and murmured that Sissy would be proud. Something in me broke, and I felt that MY daddy was coming back--that maybe our relationship could be mended.

The next night, I was at work. When I came home, my brother came rushing up to my car--"Daddy's in the hospital! He had a heart attack!" I just shook me head in disbelief. "Nah. Really?" "Yes, we're going down right now!" I opted to stay home. It was then that our neighbor, Mrs. Enterline, came over to sit with me. I was eating a snack, and I looked at her and said, "He's dead, isn't he?" She nodded yes. He had been with a friend, and he collapsed in her yard, and he died on the way to the hospital. I excused myself, went to my room, and opened my Bible to Philippians 4:7, "And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus." I knelt and prayed for that peace. 

I did have peace. Even though my daddy was gone, I had peace knowing that our relationship was on its way to being mended.  I had peace because, for the first time in years, I knew that Daddy had loved me. I had peace because I knew he was reunited with Mommy--a joyous reunion. And I have peace now because I can focus on the good memories of Daddy, and not just relive the difficult ones. 

Grandmother, Part II

Grandmother at my wedding

     Grandmother did spoil us! She looked forward to Easter, in particular. I don't know why Easter was her favorite holiday, but it was. She always boiled and colored eggs for an Easter egg hunt at her house. I remember that she only dyed them yellow, pink, and blue. Her yard was made for an egg hunt! There were all kinds of shrubs and bushes. There was that Royal Poinciana tree, with its big roots and nooks and crannies. Daddy would always hide eggs in the hollow pipes that held her clothesline. Even though the egg hunts were usually just Billy and I, we still had the best time. Usually, Grandmother would have extra baskets with candy for us, and Uncle Son would give us whatever Easter baskets the Foremost Dairy had that year. And, yes, they would hide real boiled eggs in the hot Miami sun. We'd eat them for days and never once got sick.
     However, I never understood the depth of her love for us until I became a grandmother myself. It is fun to be able to spoil your grandchildren--not to have to worry about disciplining them or caring for them on a daily basis. They come to visit; you spoil them and have fun; they go home for their parents to do the hard work. Grandmother loved us enough to surrender the fun of being a grandma and accept the serious responsibility of becoming our "mother."
    When Mommy died, Grandmother came to live with us and take care of us, and Daddy. She took a break from her job; she moved from her little house and her belongings to take care of us. She gave up the life she had made for herself--her friends, her fun, her freedom. At first, she was there for about ten months. The summer after Mommy died, she and my sister moved back to her house, while my brother and I stayed with Granny. Once summer was over, Daddy decided to let me do the cooking and cleaning. Each week day, my sister stayed with a neighbor until he got home from work.  This was such a difficult time for me. For all of us. I was barely 14 and did not know much about cooking and cleaning. Grandmother came to our rescue again. She insisted that she come back and take care of us. This time, though, she sold her house so that the move was permanent. Grandmother gave up everything.
    She was no longer the grandma who spoiled us. She chose to take care of us. To cook. To clean. To discipline, when necessary. To comfort. For me, especially, she often ran interference between Daddy and me when she thought he was being unfair. Grandmother changed so much. I remember how she was so meticulous in her appearance, wearing high-heel shoes and just the right accessories. Now, instead, she wore cotton house dresses and slippers. She didn't have her hair done every week. Going to church or the doctor was just about the only reason she'd dress up. There was no way to understand just how much she gave up for us until I became a grandmother. I never argued with her, until she lived with us. The fights a teenage girl would have with her mom? I had those fights with Grandmother. She was the one who nagged me about cleaning my room or washing my clothes. And Grandmother could have never imagined that Daddy would die only five years after she moved in, leaving her as our sole parent.
    She still had one way to spoil us--with her delicious food. That never changed. When I dieted, she would make up special lunches and dinners for me. When my friends came over, she'd be sure there was tea and a little something to snack on. Honestly, I think her Sunday fried chicken helped woo my husband! In him, she found a new person to spoil
    I also have good memories of Saturday nights watching "The Lawrence Welk Show" and teasing her about her crush on Tom Netherton. She laughed at "The Jeffersons" and "All in the Family." She was obsessed with "Dallas." Uncle Son believed that, as much as she liked her shows, she enjoyed "peeping" on the neighbors more. Poor Grandmother. She couldn't look out of the front window without his accusing her of peeping.  Of course, she did get to see Mike Enterline's angry girlfriend drive her Jeep right into his house. Peeping did pay off!  We'd play 500 Rummy, and she was a card shark. Grandmother could be surprising. One night I was playing Don McLean's American Pie album. An old-timey, blue-grassy song came on. To our surprise, Grandmother lifted up her house dress, just a little bit, and started clogging away in the kitchen.
    After all she had given me, I was able to give her the one thing she wanted most--someone to spoil. When my son was born, her great-grandson, she was able to be just a grandmother again. She loved Michael with all her heart. He WAS her boy. She made his favorites for him--macaroni and cheese, cut-up hot dogs, and, of course, cornbread. It was sad that we lived hours away, but she was excited every time we brought him down. The year before Grandmother died, Michael and I came down and spent Easter with her and my sister. Grandmother was so happy to have Michael there for the whole week. I'm glad I was able to let her be just "Grandmother" for him. Michael was young when she passed, but he remembers her. She would be so happy to know that.

Michael and Grandmother, Easter 1985

    When I think of Grandmother, I think of her at the end of a long day, when she was relaxing. She'd be sitting at the corner of the couch. Her legs would be crossed. No lights on. She'd have a little glass of water with a straw on the table next to her. In her right hand, she'd have a cigarette. In her other hand, she'd be holding a clean Vienna sausage can for her ash tray. Quiet. No TV.  She'd just be thinking and smoking. Smoking and thinking.Until her death, she was always grieving for Daddy, her only and beloved son. I imagine those quiet evenings where the only times she could just sit and remember those who had left her behind. Her parents. Her husband. Her son.