Nanny & Papa

Whenever my grandparents would call me during college or after I was married, they always had a slight inflection in their voices--a special tenderness when they said my name.  My Papa would just say, Vicki, but he would say it as if he were talking to a little girl.  Perhaps he saw me as the same little girl he had seen grow up from a baby.  My Nanny would call me, Vicki Ann, and she would also have a different pitch to her voice when she said my name.  Just thinking about their voices right now brings tears to my eyes because I feel transformed to the little girl they were seeing in their minds' eye.  My Papa has been gone now for more than a dozen years, and today is the day my Nanny died.  She was nearly 86.

Nanny was only 15 when she married Papa, a mere child bride--at least that's what she always called herself.  She had my mother when she was 16, and then my mother had me at 19.  Nanny was a 35-year-old grandmother and was much too young to be called a "Granny" or a "Grandma", but the name "Nanny" seemed appropriate for her, and that's what I called her as the first grandbaby.

I almost feel as if I grew up with her in some ways.  I remember her being a hard worker who didn't mind getting her hands dirty.  My grandparents ran a country store/gas station during my early childhood, and the store was near a railroad crossing where trains would switch cars.  I remember the haunting sounds of train whistles blowing at night and the clanking of the cars hitting each other as they were disconnected and reconnected.  I also remember seeing hobos sleeping propped up against the gas pumps occasionally, and Nanny would tell us to stay away from them.  But she'd send Papa out with some biscuits or some other type of food to make sure they didn't go away hungry.

Nanny's parents died fairly young of TB, and she quit school in 8th grade.  She got her GED years later after her children were grown.  While she lived in Oklahoma, she went to then Carl Albert Junior College to get every college credit hour she could.  I remember her working for Head Start as a cook and a driver, and she took a few of us grandkids with her at times (This was before privacy and seatbelt laws.)  I remember her driving a white station wagon with the back end of it chock full of children.  She flew over those dirt roads, and I recall the smell of the dust as it came through the car's open windows.  She also did a good job cooking at Head Start, but I remember the car rides the most.  Perhaps she put the fear of God in me with her driving?

She cooked for church camp, too, and I was proud that my grandmother could cook for all of the campers from the church.  That takes preparation and talent.

When I was in junior high, she and Papa moved back to Arkansas to work at the School For the Blind in Little Rock, and I helped them move into their apartment on the school grounds.  I thought it was so cool that they lived right there on campus.  Papa was in charge of maintenance for the school, and Nanny started out as a house parent.  She eventually got her Master's degree at UALR and had her certification in teaching the blind.  She taught at the school for many years before retiring.

I remember going to visit them in Little Rock on many occasions to sing at their little church, and Papa would take my car each time and fill it with gas, and at least one time I remember finding some extra spending money in the middle of my Bible when I got back to college.  They loved me.  When boom boxes first came out, Papa bought one that I swear was about three feet long, and at a special concert when I was in junior high, he propped that thing up on a seat in the front row just so he could get a better recording of me singing.  I think he still had the same boom box when he recorded me singing in college! 

Nanny and I USED to be the same height (5'7"), but she had scoliosis issues and eventually had to have a rod placed in her back.  Eventually the rod was removed, and she began to shrink, so she was a tiny, short person as she aged.  We also wore the same size shoe, but Nanny had bunions, and I can't tell you how many really nice pairs of shoes I inherited that were only worn once or twice.  She liked cute shoes, but cute wasn't always comfortable.  I've often told Barry that if there is anyone I was most like in the world, it was my Nanny.  I favor her and my build is very much how hers was some years ago.

My grandparents had to endure the loss of two of their daughters to cancer--one to liver cancer and one to uterine cancer.  It wasn't fair for their girls to be taken from them at 40 and 45, but cancer isn't fair, and it doesn't care about the age of its victims.  I know when I was diagnosed with breast cancer, it broke my Nanny's heart.  I believe she saw it as another death sentence for someone she loved.  My mother and my aunt faithfully printed off my CaringBridge posts for her and put them in a notebook so she could see how I was doing on a regular basis.  If I didn't give an update often enough, I got a phone call about it.

Both of my grandparents showed love for their children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren by "doing" for them whenever they could, and they DID for all of us as often as their bodies, their time and their money would permit.  Honesty and integrity were important qualities to both of them, and they were so proud of all of us.  And in turn, I'm proud to have been their granddaughter.

Today I am thankful that Nanny, the child bride, is once again with my Papa, her Prince Charming.  And I know I'll see them again someday in Heaven.