Southern Roots or How my Grandparents Inspire Me

Even though I grew up in Central Florida my Southern roots run deep. I’m old fashioned and I’m ok with that. I think dudes should always make the first move, consistently pursuing the girl. One should always be polite saying “yes ma’am, no sir, please and thank you.” Doors should be held; diplomacy should be used when speaking and, in any event, be it celebratory or catastrophic, food should always be brought to the person directly affected by the situation. Just call me a modern day Scarlett O’Hara minus the self-righteousness and assertiveness.

My grandparents have highly influenced my Southern values. We lived in opposing states — me in Florida, them in Georgia. The little I remember of them from childhood is fragmented. My grandmother’s cooking, specifically a yellow cake with chocolate-butter-cream frosting studded with pecans, is permanently ingrained in my mind. She also had this Southern Belle doll collection, which as a little girl I loved, now I find them pretty creepy. I have recollections of my brother’s and I fishing with grandpa on his pontoon boat and me being so proud when I caught my very first fish. My siblings and I also took turns driving their golf-cart around with my dad—we thought this was just so cool. I also remember this funny refrigerator magnet. It was an oddly disfigured cutlery set: a spoon with holes large enough for food to slip through, a fork that looked like a descending staircase and an unserrated knife, making it impossible to cut anything. Grandma told me a friend bought it for her as a reminder to lose weight. I remember not completely understanding why a friend would do something so mean. Such funny memories.

Grandma teaching me how to make her famous cornbread

Now that I’m a grown up, and actually have real conversations with both my grandparents, I’m noticing different details. My grandpa overcame a difficult past. He was able to reconcile the relationships he broke amongst his immediate family. His perseverance and faith inspire me. The fact that he finally faced his issues, recovered from them and changed his life is incredibly brave. He’s living proof that grace is possible.

Grandma is hilarious. In her 80’s, she’s still a spit-fire, saying exactly what she thinks 100% of the time. Woven within her affable character is so much wisdom. One of my favorite things is listening to her talk. She speaks important lessons so simply, like, “Life is what you make of it,” or, “All you can do is pray.” It’s usually something I’ve heard before, but her brevity and my admiration of her make it more resonant.

Grandpa & grandma with my dad

Recently my grandpa had a medical emergency; I called and spoke with him before going in for the procedure. It was then that I realized we’re always getting older, everyday we’re aging and we just get this one life, this one chance to make a difference. My grandparents continue to change the world by volunteering, while I can barely make time to call them or hang out with a friend. This made me think… do I really need to jam-pack my schedule? Is it truly necessary for me to be so busy that I’m not making time to serve?

Before hanging up with grandpa, I told him I’d be praying for him. He humbly responded, “I need prayer.” This stuck with me. Whatever your thoughts on prayer, the truth is, most of us are comforted knowing that other’s are thinking of us. We crave this feeling, knowing that we matter enough to someone to be in their thoughts. Maybe we just want to know we’re loved?

My grandparents remind me that life is much too short to spend it being self-absorbed. Love others, love mercy, give freely and live humbly… they’ve taught me that this is what life’s about.

 

 

 

 

 

---