dannywoodall500@hotmail.com
Across the country, families gather around the dinner table on Christmas day. Between the passing of bowls and the filling of plates there is hardly a discouraging word. The gifts have all been opened and plans for the coming year are discussed. After dinner some settle down and watch the football games, others sit and visit. Then at night it is time to drive around and look at the Christmas lights. Worries will wait until tomorrow.
Since my father’s family lives in Iowa, we usually spend the holidays with my mother’s side. My mother was the second of five children. When you count my uncles, aunts, and cousins you have a large family. Almost all of the family lives within two hours of each other. For years it was my grandmother who held the family together.
One of my favorite memories is when the family would gather around the dinner table for the Christmas dinner. There would be the assorted pies, always a pumpkin pie for my cousin Gary. There would be two or three selections of meat. However I would glance across the table to spot my grandmother’s mashed potatoes. Once the bowl of mashed potatoes with chopped up boiled eggs in them was spotted, there was peace on earth and good will at the dinner table.
Ever since my cousin Ronnie miss-pronounced maw-maw, by saying monie my grandmother has been known as Monie. She helped raise two families and a part of two others. Besides her grandchildren, garage sales and baseball were favorite pastimes. She was unique in many ways.
She knew the hard knocks of life well. Growing up in the depression and having her father commit suicide were just a couple of things she had deal with. Even though my grandmother was divorced twice and smoked into her seventies, she didn’t think too much of the feminist movement. Her philosophy in life was simple, do the best with the hand God has dealt you. Her favorite saying was, “There’s a little insanity in all of us.”
Her baseball advice of keeping your eye on the ball and swing level; could be translated in life as stay alert and play straight.
She would often attend her grandchildren’s baseball games. She wasn’t there to chitchat. She was there to watch baseball. Seeing her standing by the fence looking across the field, you could tell she knew more about the game than most of the would be Earl Weavers which coached the game. We also knew if we got a hit, scored a run, or made a good defensive play we would get a dollar. Later for her great-grandchildren the standard was if you almost got a hit, almost scored, and paid attention in the field you would still get a dollar.
Watching baseball on TV would always turn into a discussion about when to pull the pitcher. If she wasn’t watching baseball, she was selling furniture. If tables and chairs were stocks and bonds, my grandmother would have been a millionaire. Moving tables, chairs, refrigerators, and couches was a part of my teenage years. One of her son’s and grandson owns a moving business.
In September of 1992 my grandmother suffered a stroke. I knew she wouldn’t die during the baseball season; the World Series was only a month away. She stayed with my aunt and soon recovered Then she moved back to her house.
The next summer she suffered another stroke. This time she stayed at my mom’s house. We watched the All-Star game together. She recovered again and insisted on staying by herself. Then on December 4th, we had to rush her to the hospital. She died the next day.
It has been over ten years since my grandmother’s mashed potatoes were on our Christmas table. No one has ever tried to duplicate her mash potatoes. In a symbolic way of showing how she held the family together; we did not lose any family member until she passed away. Since then we have lost two cousins and two aunts. We have gained three spouses and one great granddaughter. Like a river, the family flows through time, with so many memories wrapped up in a bowl of mashed potatoes.
Copyright Danny Woodall
