April Gran'ma Gertie

Howdy Ya’ll!


It’s me again, Gran’ma Gertie. I been about to laugh myself right out of my rocker! Gran’pa’s been about to break his neck a lookin’ at our neighbor! Ever spring, when the weather gets a little warm, our neighbor comes out of winter hibernation. It’s almost like clock work, and jest about as reliable as groundhog day. When she comes out, it’s officially spring!

Now I cain’t very well say that the weather has to be real warm. Just a few days ago, I was outside piddlin’ with my flow’r pots, wearin’ my brogans, overalls, and flannel shirt. I ain’t the cold natured type, neither. I was quite comfortable. All of a sudden, I heard Gran’pa let out a whoop and a yell comin’ from the widow facing the neighbors house. I knew then that it was spring.

Now I ain’t the jealous type. I always figered that if’n another woman could take that cantankerous ol’ codger, she could have ‘im! I jest don’t think it’s proper fer a grown woman to go paradin’ around with all God gave her in such a little bit of clothes! Why, there ain’t enough material in that bikini thing she wears to make a good hankerchief! You might be able to get enough material to make the waddin’ fer a shotgun shell. It’s a wonder that she ain’t caught p-monia of the belly button.

I reckon she enjoys all the men folk around ridin’ by to get a glimpse. She always seems to wave at ‘em when they go by. You’d be surprised how busy the road is out front of my house come springtime! She is a blessin’ to all the women folk around, though. She’s the only reason we can get the men folk to help us outside! Even Gran’pa thinks he’s slick. He tries to make me believe he’s rakin’ up leaves, but I’ve caught him rakin’ the same patch of grass over and over. The only way he’ll rake anywhere else is to get a better view! And, since she’s our neighbor, guess what man has the most friends in spring?

This ain’t no young teenaged filly I’m talkin’ about, either. She’s married and got a house full of young’uns. She’s pushin’ forty if’n a day. Gran’pa did say she was a “Yonder” woman - the kind that looks better over “yonder” than up close. He says her face is so bad, she’s gotta sneak up on breakfast, and that he’s seen better heads on stray ally cats! I don’t know whether it’s true, or whether he’s jest sayin’ it to make me feel better!

I cain’t figure out what would make a woman dress like that. I may not be no Marilyn Monroe, but I ain’t the worst thing I ever seen. I ain’t ashamed of my looks in no way. I figure the good Lord above made me jest the way he wanted me, and since he don’t make mistakes, I ought’er to be satisfied. Maybe she ain’t satisfied and needs someone to gawk at her to let her know she’s all right. I think they call that self esteem now. I don’t guess she’s got any. Or maybe she thinks she’s better than all right and jest likes to show off.

Seems to me, she ain’t got no common sense, either. If’n I’m gonna go outside and cut the grass around the house, I know that there may be sticks that’s blown down from the trees, or rocks that the gran’young’uns has throwed, or any thing else imaginable in the tall grass. All that stuff has the chance of flyin’ out from under that mower with enough force to knock down a mule. I want me some clothes on! I want my shoes on! I got enough sense to try to protect myself, at least a little bit! Not her though. It’s barefooted and bikini all the way.

What about all the stuff we been readin’ about that skin cancer? All the doctors and scientist have said that the layer around the earth ain’t as good as it used to be, and the sun causes more skin cancer now. Don’t she realize that stuff can kill you! I know there’s lot’s more treatments now than there used to be, but it’s still a stupid chance to take. I ain’t plannin’ on dyin’ just to get looked at by a bunch of gawkin’ ol’ geezers, or a bunch of hormone crazy boys. It just don’t seem worth it to me.

At her age, she must stay on some kind of diet. She ain’t real skinny, but in order for that bikini to keep fittin’, when she’s old enough for the middle aged spread, she’s gotta be eatin’ nothin’ but grass and tuna fish. I ain’t tellin’ you oughta eat like a hog, but if a body eats with some sense, stays busy, and don’t spend all the time jest sittin’ around, the body will be alright. It may not be what a magazine says is perfect, or what would stop traffic on a busy street, but you’ll be jest right.

As fer me, at my age, my body is like a time machine map. Each wrinkle, each gray hair, every single part that has fell from where it used to be. It may not be purdy, but it’s healthy! I’d rather be healthy and not such a looker, than to live on grass and tuna fish, and die early from somethin’ stupid.

I feel so sorry fer our young’uns nowadays. All the people on the magazines, all the big Hollywood people, all the models, and all of the people our young’uns look up to are skinny as a rail. We always read about which one is in the hospital, or goin’ to some fancy doctor, or is losin’ their career ‘cause they ain’t got sense enough to eat. Our young’uns deserve better than that. They all seem to think that if’n they cain’t fit into a certain pair of britches, or wear one of them bikini things, they ain’t right. We ought to let them know differnt. But, until all the ol’ geezers quit starin’, and we keep puttin’ up with Hollywood, the magazines, and the models, ain’t nothin’ gonna change.

Well, I see Gran’pa’s done gone inside. I reckon our neighbor is done fer today. I do hope she’ll be back out tomorrow, though. I need Gran’pa to move the woodpile out by the barn. It’s springtime, you know!


‘Till next time,

Gran’ma Gertie

March Gran'ma Gertie

Howdy Ya’ll!

Gran’ma Gertie here. Jest been settin’ on the front porch watchin’ the world go by. Now that March has arrived, I’m jest waitin’ on full blown spring. My tulip bulbs are jest now sproutin’ out, the mockin’bird’s is lookin’ fer nestin’ spots, and Gran’pa’s been talkin’ ‘bout the fence rows that need cleanin’.

If all the old almanacs are right, it should be pretty fair weather. In like a lion and out like a lamb, you know. Since I been followin’ the signs my whole life, I often wonder how the new fangled weather men git their predictions. If’n I watch the fog rise, I know I got some rain or a real heavy dew comin’. If’n it settles, ain’t no rain. I never needed one of them baro-meter things to tell me that.

If I go outside and it’s windy, I know what direction it’s comin’ from! I may not know the miles-an-hour, but I can judge if’n it’s enough to dry clothes on the line. If it’s real gusty, I can let the gran’young’uns fly their kites out in the back field. If it ain’t too breezy, I can sow some flow’r seed in the bed out by the back porch. I ain’t never needed a wind sock thing to tell me that!

I know that in the fall, if’n the sunsets real red, we got cooler weather comin’. You can tell if’n a hard winter’s comin’ by how many acorns fall, and how fat the squirrels are. You can also tell what kind of winter’s comin’ by the corn shucks. If the shucks are few and loose, a mild winter, if’n they’re heavy and wrapped real tight, count on a hard winter. When you see a ring around the moon, count how many stars are in the ring - that’s how many days ‘till rain. If’n you listen to the birds, you can tell if a storm’s approachin’. They always git real quiet, and usually lite somewhere to ride it out.

Now I know that all signs ain’t fer real. They was probably started by some superstitious ol’ maid to amuse herself and scare the daylights outta the young’uns. Like a bird in the house or a hoot owl outside yer window at night means death to someone close to you. Well, let me tell you, I’ve lived in the woods ‘bout all my life, heard hoot owls scream half the night, and had birds git in the house when I aired it out, and ain’t nobody died unless they was s’posed to! I do admit, though, to crossin’ out the path of a black cat if’n he crosses mine! Just in case.

I know most of this stuff seems perty silly to the young’uns of today. After all, they got all kinds of computer stuff to tell’em what’s what. They can find out in the blink of an eye what the weather is in any city in the world. I reckon it must be important to some people to know if’n it’s rainin’ in Paris, but me, I just need to know what the weather is in my own little area. I need to know things like will my clothes git dry on the line, or will I need to hang’em on the back porch? Will mine and Gran’pa’s rheumatism be bad this winter, or will we fair all right? If’n the gran’young’uns come over, can they go out and play, or drive me crazy playin’ in the house? These are the things that are important to me. And a lot of people like me.

I guess my point is that times are changin’, and they’re changin’ real fast. I just hope that somewhere, there’s a Gran’ma or Gran’pa teachin’ the young’uns the old ways, too. I’d hate to see the day when nobody remembers anymore. Now I ain’t sayin’ that I’m against learnin’ new things, or that the new ways ain’t no good. There’s been a lot of good progress that I’ve lived to see, but there’s a lot of things our young’uns could learn. Things that have had us country folks survivin’ fer years. We been buildin’ homes, plantin’ crops, raising meat, and bringin’ up young’uns fer hunderds o’years, without no fancy machines to tell us how to do it. Seems to me, we been perty smart! I jest hope we don’t let the young’uns ferget that. Learnin’ is somethin’ that nobody can take away from you, and you never know when you jest might need it!


‘Till next time,

Gran’ma Gertie.

February Gran'ma Gertie

Howdy Ya’ll,

Gran’ma Gertie jest checkin’ in again. Since it’s soon to be Valentines Day, I thought maybe the young’uns would like to know how it used to be. The way it was when me and Gran’pa were young’uns. Before every store in town got in on it.

When I was jest a girl, we used to make all of our own Valentine cards. Most of the mama’s I knew used to keep little scraps of material from quilt makin’s, old paper doilies, and other notions we young’uns could have. If’n you were lucky, you could go to the dime store and buy some red paper or glitter. Mostly we jest used what we had. Mama used to make us a glue from flour, corn starch, and some water. My brother used to eat more than he used!

We’d sit around the table fer hours when we had a chance. It had to be after chores, supper, baths, and school work was done. It might take days to make all our cards. Sometimes even weeks if’n it was fer somebody special. After they were done, we couldn’t wait to give them out and look at all the other ones the other young’uns made.

I got one from Gran’pa that was as purty as any store-bought one I’ve ever seen. He didn’t have any paper doilies, so he spent several weeks cuttin’ out the paper into these purty heart and flow’r shapes. I don’t remember what he wrote on the inside, I jest remember all the time he put in to make it. He also done extra work at Mr. Douglass’s farm to buy me some little fancy tinfoil wrapped chocolate hearts. That sure was the way to my heart! Chocolate, pure and simple. It don’t matter what kind, light or dark, sweet or bittersweet, as long as it’s chocolate! Although, at my age, with my store-bought teeth, I have a little problem with the nuts.

Some women I know like to get flow’rs, or new night clothes. Some like to be took to supper, or off dancin’ somewhere. I’d just as soon spend my Valentine’s Day with Gran’pa, settin’ at the house, listenin’ to the radio, eatin’ my chocolates.

I reckon I found out what love was all about when he give me that first card. It’s about carin’ fer someone enough to do somethin’ difficult without complainin’. It’s about knowin’ somebody well enough to know what they like. It’s about bein’ happy with what you’ve got, and bein’ willin’ to share it. It’s about makin’ someone else happy without expectin’ somethin’ in return. I’m lucky to still have my someone. And real lucky that he still remembers.

If you have a special someone, don’t ferget that Valentine’s day is comin’ fast. Don’t ferget your mama and daddy, either. After all, they loved you first. If you can find the time, sit down and make a purty card. Homemade is always thought more of than store-bought. It shows that you cared enough to take the time, even in our busy world today. A Valentine don’t have to be a card, a flow’r, or anything expensive. It can be as simple as a promise to do somethin’ fer somebody, cut your mama’s grass, help your daddy in the garden fer a day, or fix a nice supper fer your special someone. It really ain’t hard if you use your noodle just a little. How do you think me and Gran’pa’s lasted all these years? He keeps on buying me chocolates and I keep on ..........! Well, I just keep on!

‘Till next time,

Gran’ma Gertie