Ain’t Life Grand? 03.02.21

My maternal grandmother, Etta LaPrade

Though I am distinctly childless, and by extension grandchildless, I’ve nonetheless found that having my peers become grandparents gives me a certain sense of place on the timeline of life. Which is really just a flowery way of saying, “Damn, I am old.” Of course I tell myself if I feel that way imagine how they must feel. Also, I don’t anticipate my honorary Uncle Frank to ever have a “Great” appended to it unless it’s in the vein of, “Isn’t it GREAT Uncle Frank showed me how to tie a Windsor knot while smoking a cigarette?” I’m a lock for Uncle Picture-of-Dorian-Gray.

The only grandparent I ever knew was my maternal grandmother, Etta LaPrade, pictured here. She resided in Mt. Pleasant, county seat of Titus County deep in the Piney Woods of east Texas. She had something of an unusual story arc in that she was a young widow with three children who married a widower with three children. And while it’s easy to jump to the conclusion that it sounds just like The Brady Bunch, keep in mind that this was during the Great Depression and Greg, Marcia et al did not pick cotton to put food on the table and Alice only existed to take in people’s laundry. This union also produced two late in life children, my mother and my uncle.

Both of my grandfathers passed away before I was born and sadly I don’t know much about either of them. And I met my paternal grandmother only once, when I was an infant. My father’s family was devoutly Catholic and at some point, I’m not sure when, he turned in his St. Christopher’s medal. He married my mother, a non-Catholic, in a civil ceremony which I’m sure was frowned upon mightily and when I came along I was for all intents and purposes viewed as illegitimate. I kinda wish my dad’s mother had just rolled with it; she could have created some great memories. “Frank, you little bastard! Bring Grandma her purse so she can give you a Werther’s Original!” I only knew about her visit when my mom told me about it when I was in college. She said my aunt in San Antonio brought her from her home in Taylor to Corpus Christi to see me. As far as I know it was the first time for Mom to meet her as well. I have no doubt my mother went to great effort to make sure the house was spotless and that she served a delicious lunch to impress her mother-in-law, but it was all for naught. And of course, being a good buttoned down Protestant my mother never discussed it though it must have been heartbreaking for her. And for my grandmother. My dad had four siblings yet I was the only offspring from the entire lot. She died when I was about 10 or 11 without ever knowing the joy of her only grandchild. And you know I had joy to burn even back then.

But back to Miz Etta as people referred to her or “Granny” as my cousins and I did. I don’t know the date of the above photo, I’m guessing early 60s, but there is a handwritten note on the back that says, “This is the way I looked Easter.” She was obviously pretty proud of her ensemble and by golly she had every right to be. And while I have many fond childhood memories of Granny, she passed when I was in my teens and I didn’t really get to be around her very much due to distance and her failing health. Those of you with grandkids, enjoy! It may not be until long after you’re gone that your impact will be fully realized by your descendants.

Also, who goes by “Granny” these days unless they’re an apple? It’s kind of hard to imagine a child running up to someone standing in the doorway holding a glass of wine dressed in an off-the-shoulder animal print top, capri pants, metallic-toned flip flops and yelling “Granny!!!” unless said child wanted a glass of pinot dumped on their head. This has no doubt spawned the current proliferation of nicknames for grandmothers that extends well beyond the tried and true “Grandma” and “Granny”. Some of them have even given me an idea for an ongoing series entitled, “Grandmother Nickname or Stripper Name?” Of course, being Uncle Picture-of-Dorian-Gray I’m here for it. Let’s meet soon for Pilates, day drinking and a trip to Forever 61, Cheeky!