Hello…I’m back!! I have missed writing my story and with another birthday rapidly approaching, time is of the essence. I was sidelined due to carpal tunnel surgery and long before the time to recover for this type of surgery, I am able to use my hand to type!!! (“For I will restore health to you, and your wounds I will heal, declares the Lord.”) Jeremiah 30:17a ESV. All honor, glory, and praise to God for his faithfulness to me. Now to continue where I left off…in the plains of Alabama.

I was not sure if I should include my maternal grandmother in my story, but she is the only grandparent I knew…and she was “Big Momma” to us. I don’t know how she became “Big Momma” because she was “Grand Momma” to my cousins.

I can’t say my grandmother had any influence in my growing up, primarily because she lived twelve miles away and we didn’t have a car to get there. Vice versa she didn’t visit us for the same reason. But, there was a time when my sister and I begged my mother to stay during the summer. She initially told us “No”, but relented and we were driven down to stay with her for a week…a week that will go down in infamy…and my mother probably knew it.

From what I can gather, “Big Momma” was born in and around 1899, meaning her grandmother (my great, great grandmother) was born in slavery…making me fifth generation slavery. For whatever reason, “Big Momma” always wore clothing in keeping with every thing that points to slavery…long dresses, an apron tied around her waist, brogan boots, a white head wrap tied around her head with an old oily hat with holes on top. I never saw her in anything else. She was short…maybe five feet. She had very dark complexion, high cheekbones and small recessed eyes. Her hands were small and rough from the many days of washing and ironing clothes (her way of earning pittance), she dipped snuff. (Snuff is a smokeless tobacco product made from finely ground tobacco leaves). Although known to have been snorted and spread worldwide by European explorers, “Big Momma” would shake it from the top cover of the snuff into the crevice of her bottom lip making for a large protruding bulge. She spent the remainder of the day replenishing it and spitting a stream of brown juice that landed with a splatter in the dirt. It is only as I write this that I realize as a product of tobacco, she was addicted to the nicotine in the snuff. Not only that, her teeth were ruined as a result and she had very few. When she felt necessary, “Big Momma” would a few ‘cuss’ words to make her point. Dipping snuff and cussing were sacrilegious and forbidden in our house…another reason I suspect my Mother didn’t want us to go..

The picture above is the house “Big Momma” lived in at the time of the infamous visit. Albeit the house is now overgrown, however, with close investigation, you will quickly determine it was not fit for human habitation. The boards you see outside were the same boards inside. Faded pieces of newspaper adorned the inside walls here and there to cover the cracks between the boards. There was no electricity, (inside or out)…only a kerosene lamp…no plumbing, no pane windows… only heavy wooden shutters that opened up to the elements (a gaping hole) and closed again with a rope to a nail. The doors (front and back were also wooden with no panes, opened during the day (another gaping hole) to the elements and closed the same way as the windows. The heat during winter was from a wood stove in the area that served as the kitchen in the back of the house and a huge open fireplace in the main room of the house. In this room were two beds. The water supply was a well a few feet from the back door of the house. Even though the house was in the rural, “Big Momma” didn’t have a garden or other livestock, she only had chickens that were in and out of the house at will when the doors were open.

I don’t know what my mother was thinking when my sister and I were driven to “Big Momma’s” except maybe when we got there we wold change our minds and come back home. She didn’t send a change of clothes…noting…NOTHING!!! We only had the clothes we wore down…meaning we slept in them and wore them for the entire week. I know that sounds horrible, but it gets worse.

There was no real way to bathe, brush our teeth, comb our hair. To add insult to injury, the bed we slept in was made of ‘ticking’ with feathers inside that poke you. Not only that, there were bed bugs…AWWW!!! My sister and I were full of bites. We took to sleeping on top of the bed. Needless to say, after the first night we were ready to go back home…but nothing doing because “Big Momma” didn’t have a telephone and neither did we. We were stuck there for the week. The only escape was going with her (walking) to wash clothes for someone. She did say she needed to wash our clothes, “No “Big Momma” we don’t have anything to put on. To dry clothes, even those she brought with her to wash, meant hanging them in half over a line to dry and depending on the weather, that could take a while.

There were plenty of eggs to eat because of the chickens; however, “Big Momma” was not the best cook. She didn’t buy bread but made these biscuits that were made with too much flour that never browned…maybe it was the stove…I don’t know. I don’t remember having anything else to eat…but then, I guess it really didn’t matter because we were used to not having enough food to eat. The only other ‘pass time’ was moving the cover from the well, untying the rope that held the bucket and hearing the sound of the splash as it hit the water. My mother had warned us not to go near the well with fear we would fall in. Because of that warning, we never looked over into the well…just watched as the handle to draw the bucket out went spinning around….clank, clank, clank..splash!!

It was during this stay, however, I learned “Big Momma” was deathly afraid of storms. I don’t know what happened in her past that made her so afraid. There was a storm during that week we were there. She rushed around closing up everything…stifling heat. Not only that, she tightly coward herself in a corner (like a ball) and didn’t move until the storm was over. Needless to say, she used a few choice words for our not following suit..

One day she didn’t take us with her and at that point I had not been in the one room back of the house. Since “Big Momma” was not there, I thought to take a look. The room didn’t have anything in it but a large trunk. I opened it to the smell of moth balls…and finding beautiful, very clean items of clothing, white tablecloths, pillow cases, sheets. The trunk was full. When “Big Momma’ returned, I asked her why she didn’t use those things…’that is my hope chest gal’. I guess she was hoping a better time and place was coming.

A better place did come with electricity, plumbing, bathroom, closets, a decent kitchen and stove, refrigerator…in a house built for her in another area. But she didn’t want to leave the place she knew as home and literally cried when most of what she had accumulated for years was thrown away. Living in that dilapidated house was all “Big Momma” knew and when she was moved out of it, she was never the same. It was as if she lost the reason to live. I suspect there was an attachment to the house she did not want to leave behind.

The good thing I can attribute to “Big Momma” is a white leather bound zippered Bible I found as things were being tossed away. I never knew of “Big Momma” ever attending a church of any kind…not even Easter or Christmas. I’m sure the Bible was given to her and I’m not so sure she knew what it was because she couldn’t read or write. But it was the first Bible I ever had and still have to this day. That was our first and last overnight stay with “Big Momma”. She died a few months after migrating to the north. My mother didn’t tell her we were leaving….

After returning to Alabama, it took me six years to return to the place I was born and raised. I just didn’t want to face nor relive what is still very vivid in my mind…the pain of it. During the trip back, I went to the area “Big Momma” had lived. To my shock, the house was still standing. I NEVER expected to see it. Some amenities had been added to make it more livable…there was even what looked like a television antenna on the roof. I sat in the car overtaken by memories…wondering who had lived in the house and how could it still be standing.

Even as I write this and think back on that time in my life, I am humbled to the very core of my being and amazed I am where I am today. How could any of this happen if not for God. There is no other explanation…NONE!! This is what I know…(“The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness”) Lamentations 3:22-23 ESV

Vivian