carolynscanvas.com: December 2010

MY HERO

Let me tell you about my hero. She died in 1974. I'm sure you didn't hear anything about it. There was no national day of mourning. There was no "late breaking news"-only to her loved ones and our hearts were breaking. Very few days go by that something doesn't remind me of her. I hope my children, grandchildren and now my great grandchildren have the same love and regard for me that I have for that old woman. I can only hope to have the impact on all of them that she has always had on me.

The sifter she used to sift flour for 1000's of biscuits is in my kitchen on a shelf. She'd sift a mound of flour into a tin washpan that was kept for just that purpose. Into that mound she worked baking powder and buttermilk with her hands, then when the dough was the right consistency, squeezed the same amount of dough for each biscuit from the mound between her thumb and forefinger, plopped each onto her greased pan, and into the oven. The best biscuits ever! Always the same size. Always raised perfectly and to this day I have never seen anyone else make biscuits that way. I didn't learn that art from her-my biscuits come from a can.

Her Bible with her handwritten prayer on a back page for her son, George, as he went off into World War 11 is with my photos and other keepsake books and memorabilia.

Her Pilsbury Doughboy that I got for her because she thought he was so cute in the commercials sits there also with two photos of her and her first husband, probably at their wedding in their Victorian clothing-she in her long white dress with puffy sleeves, her chapeau with plume and floral arrangement about twelve inches tall and he with his suit and cocky hat perched to the back of his head. She was very young.

Granny's handkerchief [Granny always had a handkerchief with her] is in my shadow box that my sister, Shirley, and I put together with copies of her prayer, old photos, photos of Pilsbury Doughboy and a can of Bruton snuff along with a piece of a sweater she wore not long before she died [there is also a photo of her wearing the sweater-Shirley had given her the sweater] . I also have a worn quilt with appliqued butterflies that she made.

These things have no monetary value. They are only precious to us. You see, Granny had very little throughout her whole life. Born in Whitley County, Ky., she was raised by her grandmother. I don't remember ever hearing much about her mother, she had taken off. Her father never acknowledged her. He was from a prominent local family and never contributed to her livelihood in any way. She was probably hungry at times and had little schooling. Shame on him.

She was 18 years old when she married Ancil Walker on February 27, 1909. Granny would tell us about her first baby that she always called her Little Audrey and how her head was so small it fit into a teacup. Little Audrey did not live past 8 months old. Then son, Raymond, was born and another tragedy. Ancil was killed while working on the railroad. Granny was now a young widow with a baby boy.

At this point, Ancil's family stepped in and took Raymond from my Granny.There was no legal aid then, no food stamps, no welfare and with no education, very few jobs.

I can only imagine the complete heartbreak she had having lost both her husband and baby daughter and then to have her son taken from her. She had no one to turn to, no way to fight.

On June 25, 1916 Granny married my grandfather, Thomas Crockett and happiness came back into her life. My uncle, George, was born and my mother, Christine. When Mom was only a few months old, Tom died of pneumonia leaving Granny, once again, a widow with small children.

So before 30 years of age, Granny had lost both husbands, 2 children, and had 2 children to raise alone. Tom's sister, Sarah, God bless her, stepped in with her husband, Cheek Alder, to help. Together they raised gardens, cleaned homes, sewed clothes from feed sacks, and anything else they could do to keep body and soul together. With all this, Granny didn't bemoan anything in her life. She didn't feel sorry for herself. She had to keep going.

Granny didn't marry again. She lived for her children and then for us, her grandchildren. I am her oldest grandchild. My mother, Christine, got her teacher's degree with Granny's backing. When my brother and I were babies, Dad and Mom came to Ohio to get jobs because they couldn't find work in Ky. Not too long after, Granny came to live with us. She helped raise 5 more children. She cooked pinto beans and cornbread. She was always there when we came in from school.

Granny had the healing knowledge and hands. Mom tells me of a child that was brought to her just after we came to Cincinnati. The child's doctor had given up and told the parents to find an old hill woman to try to heal her, so she was brought to Granny. I don't know what was wrong but whatever it was, Mom says Granny healed her. I know she took care of all our aches and pains with her concoctions.

I hope the following poem I wrote in honor of my Granny lets you see just a glimpse of her.

MY HERO

My hero didn't lead the charge up San Juan Hill,

shatter any records that made time stand still,

invent a new drug to wipe out dread disease,

adventure into outer space or on the seven seas.

She had little education nor great riches to show,

my HERO is a little gray haired woman that this world will never know.

Though things for her were never easy, we never heard regret.

Though she had very little-still for things she didn't fret.

The simplest things pleased her, a candy bar, some Bruton Snuff.

Just sit and spend time with her and for her that was enough.