Tribute to my grandmother
The piece of writing that I’m most proud of has made its way into the world. It’s an article for Wondertime about what it meant to me to have my grandmother raise me (along with my mother). I will provide the link to the online version below, but promise me you’ll pick up the print edition? It’s got even more family photos including the main photo enlarged to fill an entire page, plus pics of my girls and me.
Here’s the intro:
You would never guess by looking at me that I have a little old lady living inside me. She’s an 82-year-old black woman who eats fish and grits for breakfast but knows what caviar tastes like. She knows no strangers, and everyone is welcome at her table. Look past my painted-on jeans from Old Navy, past my honey-brown dreadlocks and cynical smirk; see her toothy grin and favorite housecoat, the flowers on it faded from fuchsia to pale pink. I rush through housework like the chore it is, but the little old lady inside me makes sure I don’t accidentally touch anyone with my broom straws (lest I sweep them out of my life) or put shoes on the bed (worse luck than 10 broken mirrors and a dozen black cats). My Ivy League education would be nothing if it didn’t exist alongside her knowledge of the proper way to wring a chicken’s neck and how a lady should sit in public (knees together). I grimace a bit less through Pennsylvania winters because the little old lady inside me has red Georgia clay and Florida sunshine coursing through her veins. She is a generous, straight-shooting daughter of the South. She is the definition of old school. She is my grandmother, whom I called Nay-Nay.
Read the rest… (yep, that’s me at age 1)
And buy the mag at a Barnes & Noble (or similar spot) near you!
Asante sana.
May 8th, 2008 at 1:53 pm
What a beautiful tribute to your lovely grandmother. I just found your blog from Anti-Racist Parent and look forward to reading more. You are a fantastic writer.
May 8th, 2008 at 2:45 pm
Welcome, Libby! And thank you for your kind words.