This last weekend in July, my family celebrates, in grand style, a truly unique event. My grandmother turns 94. I have five generation photos for the second time in a row. In this set, my grandson is the youngest and my grandmother is the oldest. In the first set, my daughter was the youngest and my great grandmother the oldest. The family tradition ended with my daughter. With the birth of my beautiful grandson, the thirteen generations of first-born girls came to an end. I don’t regret it for a minute. He is a pistol.
My daughter, with the Bachelor degree in Early Childhood Education, calls and asks, “Mom was I a climber?” “Why do you ask honey?” asks a smiling mother. “Because I was seeing a friend out the door, turned around and there was my son standing on the dining room table atop two wooden boxes reaching for the chandelier.” “Yes, my darling, I’m afraid I have to tell you, that you were indeed a climber. You even stood on your Uncle Gary’s foot to be tall enough to ride the Zephyr and become a roller coaster junkie. I’ve caught you at the top of the bookcases up against the living room ceiling.” She has ridden eight of the top ten wooden roller coasters in the United States! I have acrophobia and am scared to death of heights! Go figure!?
I had a very hard time keeping the laughter out of my voice as she complained about having to put a lock on the refrigerator door; only to have him push a chair over to the cabinet, climb up in the chair, onto the countertop, and open the freezer door. Then, when they were outside and no one would pull him in his radio flyer wagon with the wooden rails, he pulled it around to the side of his dad’s 3-door Saturn. He climbed up on the roof of the car. When they looked around at him, he was jumping up and down on the sunroof. He then discovered the windshield makes an excellent slide.
Oh yes, he may be the first male to break the first-born girl tradition, but he definitely takes after his mother and all of his grandmothers. A more loved little boy can’t be found. And he would be spoiled to death if his mom would let the grandmothers have him for a while. She won’t even let me take him to McDonald’s because I drive a “tent”. I happen to drive a fully loaded, power everything, leather interior Chrysler Sebring convertible. A TENT! I have to borrow her car to go play at the McDonald playground!
The women of my Grandmother’s family are very long lived. My great grandmother, Maw Maw, was 97 when she passed on to be with my paw paw. My great great grandmother, Sara Margaret Elizabeth Louise, was 104 when she was called home. You all know of my mom’s adventures and she is 70 years young.
As the oldest of my Grandmother’s grandchildren, I couldn’t say M’s very well. They came out a little garbled, so the French roots came out and Granny Marie became Grannie’rie and has been through 5 generations. She is my special someone. I get to fix her hair for her birthday and get her settled at the dining room table and ready to blow out the candles on the birthday cake. We were truly grateful when they started making candles in the shape of numbers. Ninety four candles on a cake is a real fire hazard. The cake is a full sheet cake, the largest they make. My grandmother has 27 grandchildren and we, as Grannie’rie brought us up, took God at his word when he told Moses to go forth and be fruitful. When we are all gathered, there are about 100 or more of us. And all of us, from the very tiniest newborn to my Grannie’rie’s younger sisters will be there to celebrate her day. This is a tradition that has been in my family forever or as close to it as we can get, and at 104 Grandma Sara Margaret Elizabeth Louise was definitely as close to it as she could get.
Happy Birthday Grannie’Rie! May you have a hundred more!
