Not Your Typical Grandmother

When I was growing up my grandmother was different from other grandmothers. Grandmothers of her time had grey hair and wore aprons while they baked chocolate chip cookies and boiled collard greens. They wore sensible shoes and read the newspaper. It’s not that my grandmother didn’t do those things, she did. It’s just that she was also…fun. 

I should have realized this long before I did. There were signs that Grandmama wasn’t typical. Once looking through some old family pictures I spied a picture taken in Panama City Beach, FL. There was a little girl rinsing herself off in a spigot, my older? sister. The subject of the picture was definitely my sister. But standing beside her, smiling down, was a stunning woman. She had on the most elegant, one piece, black, strapless bathing suit. Her hair was curled and she looked like a movie star. She was so beautiful.  “Who is that in this picture?” I asked. “Is it Grandmama?!” I was shocked. 

This wasn’t the only thing that shocked me about my grandmother as I grew up and grew to know her better. But it was probably the first. She was a looker.

Grandmama married the love of her life quite young. She was adopted into my grandfather’s family and soon they welcomed a daughter, my mother. My grandmother was, at the time, sheltered and shy. There’s another picture of her in her early 20s. She’s standing with my grandfather and his large family. Grandmama has on a halter top and shorts. Her hair is long and curly. And, she looks miserable. I’ve always wondered what caused her to be so sad. That’s not the grandmother I knew.

Not too long after the sad picture was taken, my grandfather passed away. Grandmama was left to raise my 8-year-old mother alone. She must have been lonely and afraid, even surrounded by her husband’s family. But, she made a decision. She could continue being sheltered and afraid, living her life in the bubble of the Allen family. Or, she could venture out. She wanted to see the world and wanted my mother to experience it too. She started becoming the grandmother I would eventually come to love. 

The Grandmama I Knew

She got a job and moved with my mother to a town 30 minutes away. She took my mom and her cousins to Columbus to shop at Kirven’s and to Atlanta to see Holiday on Ice. She took them to have lunch at the Magnolia Room at Rich’s in downtown Atlanta where they ate chicken salad under the huge faux tree. 

Grandmama treasured her friends from work, the clubs she joined, and church. She served in leadership roles that required her to stand in front of our church congregation to pray and often attended a women’s conference at Camp Hargis near Birmingham. 

When I was in high school, Grandmama became the president of her local chapter of the Pilot Club International. Then, to our confusion and astonishment, she became the Governor of the Pilot Club for the state of Georgia. Our family made the trip to see Grandmama accept the office. It was one of the dressiest events I had ever been to. But a year later when she passed the gavel to her successor, we were even more amazed. Grandmama presided over the whole formal event in a black lace evening gown and when she finished her speech recapping her year as Governor, the whole ballroom of 500 people rose to their feet and cheered, like she was the Queen which I guess she kind of was. 

During her year as Governor of the Pilot Club Georgia, Grandmama and her friend Miss Sara drove all over the state visiting Pilot Clubs. Then, Grandmama flew to Miami for a national convention. I was impressed. At the time, people didn’t just jet to conferences long distances away, at least not in my world. 

My sister, who was in college at the time of Grandmama’s governorship, told a friend she was going to see her grandmother installed as the Governor of Georgia. Her naive friend gasped with wide eyes and said, “Your grandmother is the Governor of Georgia?!” My sister, realizing the misunderstanding, said, “No. You see, Grandmama is a Pilot.” And, her friend gasped again, “Your grandmother is a pilot?!” More explanations followed. You see, she wasn’t an ordinary grandmother.

Feeding Allen and Davis their first
birthday cake and ice cream

She was also funny. Once on the very long drive from Lanett to Gulf Shores for vacation, Grandmama started telling me a story about a creature called Galligator who was so ugly he could break a mirror by looking into it. I think she was afraid she was going to have to carry me into the hotel if I fell asleep. Her story kept me wide awake. 

It was her job to share a bed with me on these vacations. I don’t know if she volunteered or drew the short stick, but I was always her responsibility. I don’t think I was the calmest bedmate. After one restless night Grandmama told me that if I talked in my sleep again she was going to listen. Then, at the rehearsal dinner the night before my wedding when it was her turn to say something about her granddaughter, my grandmother rose to her feet and said, “Well, Bobby, I was the first person to sleep with Amy.”

Seriously?

For most of my growing up years Grandmama had a painting of the chapel at Callaway Gardens displayed above the fireplace in her little red house. Then, one Christmas we commissioned a famous local artist and friend to paint a picture of her home. Mr. Longshore lived around the corner from Grandmama and would walk past her house during his early morning constitution. Because of the slant of the sun, something Grandmama didn’t see often because she wasn’t up as early as Mr. Longshore, the light painted the wall by her driveway a beautiful light pink and that’s how the artist painted the picture. 

When Grandmama opened the painting on Christmas morning, we were all excited, knowing she would love it. We waited with hushed anticipation to see what she would say. “That would be my house if the wall wasn’t pink,” she quipped. Regardless, she was proud to have an original Jim Longshore take the place of her beloved Callaway Chapel above the mantle. 

Grandmama and me at my wedding

Grandmama loved beautiful things. She worked in an office in town and wore beautiful shoes to work every day. She had a thing for butterflies, amassing quite a collection of butterfly pins which she occasionally wore on her clothing in unexpected places, like the back of her shoulder. It made her laugh when people tried to brush the little passenger away.

She was a wonderful grandmother and I think my sister and I each carry some of her with us - her laughter, resilience, intelligence, daring, beauty. We both hope our hair is one day the effortless silver, gray of Grandmama’s. 

While she was the only grandparent I ever knew, I think she filled the shoes for four grandparents all by herself pretty well. I don’t have grandkids yet, but I hope one day all the friends of my grandkids will call me “Grandmama” like my friends did. I hope I can share with my grandkids the love and joy and bravery that she shared with me. You see, I don’t want to be a normal grandmother either. I want to be fun like Grandmama.