Wine & Rose Milk
She would have been 107 today. To say she was full of fire would be putting it mildly. In her day, Miss Virginia was a star-worthy beauty with auburn hair, sparkling green eyes, and a dancer’s legs. She could light up a stage dancing the Charleston in her satin hot pants while the Carolina Cotton Pickers played behind her. At least that’s what we gathered from the headline on that old, sepia-toned newspaper clipping we found.
To me she was Granny. The year I came into this world was the same year she became a widow. In my earliest memories, she would have been in her early sixties. Flickers of that teenage dancer were long gone by then. Those green eyes had been hardened by anger, heartbreak, and grief. She frightened me just a little when I was young. That didn’t stop me from wanting to spend the night at her house.
There was all manner of things to be explored in that 1920’s shotgun house and she let me dig through all of it! If you walked through the house and stepped real hard, it made a hollow sound and shook a little. The house smelled like an antique shop. It was always dusty, and she liked it that way! She lived in the country. She liked her gravel driveway and her scuppernong vines. She wanted nothing to do with modern stuff, well, except her TV. I remember the Dutch door that led to her back porch, the old asbestos tile on the bathroom floor, and the huge belt-driven fan in the bathroom window. Like every kid, I used to hum noises through the fan.
Being the youngest in the family, my experiences with her were different than everyone else’s. Most of what I have seem to be summertime memories and it took me a long time to realize what a treasure those memories are. My family was anything but conventional and she certainly was no exception! There was an old Hardee’s commercial that touted biscuits like Grandma used to make. It came blaring across the car radio and I announced to my mother that MY Granny didn’t make biscuits; she drove a pickup truck!
Her life deserves a book and maybe one day I’ll write it, but for now, Ill leave you with those summertime memories that meant the most. I miss pulling into her gravel driveway hearing the rocks pop under the tires. I miss seeing her sitting on that patio of uneven bricks in that slightly rusted patio chair. She would sip Chablis from a short-stemmed, cut crystal glass while she pulled weeds from the sandy soil. I miss seeing her turn the burn pile. She loved a good fire! I miss the smoke-filled games of rummy and crazy eights. I miss the ever-present bowls of walnuts, jars of dry-roasted peanuts, and boxes of her favorite Russell Stover Turtles. I miss her laugh. I miss seeing her do the Charleston to Led Zeppelin’s “Boogie with Stu”. I miss watching Hee Haw with her and seeing her get excited when she got to see Charlie Pride. I miss her hugs. She was SO strong! I miss her.
She smelled like wine and Rose Milk.
