Grandma and Papa

Day 12 of thanksgiving moments is for my grandparents.  Grandma and Papa Tipton.  They have been on my mind so much lately.  They were humble people.  They lived in the same home most of their married lives, there were very few updates to the home over the years.

 I can remember when they finally got indoor plumbing.  It sure was nicer than going outside to the outhouse when nature called.  And I can remember taking a bath in the big, galvenized wash tub in the middle of the kitchen floor. Brrr.

Their heating unit was just a big coal/wood burning stove in the living room, so by the time you went through the kitchen to the bedroom, it got cooler and cooler, until you could almost see you breath in the middle of winter.

Grandma's beds were covered with the quilts she had made.  In the winter, there were several piled on top of another and they were so heavy that it made your toes curl up, but we would snuggle down under those quilts and get so snuggly warm.

I can't remember a time that I went to Grandma's that she didn't have a plate of homemade, buttermilk biscuits sitting on the stove.  As soon as we would arrive, me and my brother would dash out of the car, race to the kitchen, grab a biscuit, and out the old, screen door we'd go with a bang.

Grandma was a conniseur of breakfast.  She made biscuits, bacon, sausage, eggs, and oatmeal every morning we stayed there.  And then there'd be jars of jellies, apple butter and molasses that she'd make herself sitting all over the red checkered table cloth.  After we had eaten until we could pop, I'd wait for the finale...Papa would take his coffee, pour a little into a saucer, and slurp it.  That fascinated me.

My brother and I would head out the door as soon as breakfast was over, usually going to the barn, or sometimes to the woods with the Great Smoky Mountains as the backdrop.  We'd play through the fields, climb through barbed wire fence into the cow pasture, run around the pond (I remember my cousin and I taking this trip and getting chased around the pond by some cows!), and end up at the spring house to check it out to see if there were any snakes inside.  After playing all over the place, we'd hear Grandma shouting, "LUNCH TIME!"

My grandma was always busy, cleaning, canning, snapping beans and taking care of her flowers.  But, somewhere in her busy days, she'd let her hair down out of it's everpresent bun, and let me brush it.  My grandma had never had her hair cut in her lifetime, and it would flow over the arm of her little rocking chair almost to the floor.  It was all gray and silver, with some streaks of black that refused to let go of the beauty it held in her younger days.  Grandma had some Cherokee blood in her, so her coloring was beautiful and she had the proud nose of her ancestors which was passed onto my mama.  Grandma used to sit down with me and color pictures in my coloring book.  I kept those colorings for years and years, but somewhere along the way they were lost, but I'll always keep them in my heart.

My papa was the gentlest, yet grandest man I knew.  He never had a harsh word for anyone.  To me, he was a tall, gentle giant.  Papa was tall and lanky, with arms that hung a little too far passed his sleeves.  He had an everpresent hat on his head, that had been darkened by his sweat when he worked. 

Papa had a thinning head of hair, but it wouldn't stop me from creating all kinds of hairdos on his head.  He'd let me sit on the back of the couch with my legs draped over his shoulders, while I worked away with bobby pins, rubberbands, brushes and combs.  I always made him hold a mirror so he could admire my creations.

Papa was a man of integrity.  Papa was a man of God.  Papa preached all over Blount County, Tennessee, and was known as "Uncle Johnny" to everyone.  He never drove a car.  Anywhere he went, he walked, or sometimes a kindly soul would pick "Uncle Johnny" up and take him where he needed to go.  Papa started a church in Maryville, Tennessee known as Cades Cove Baptist Church.  It was named for all the people that lived in Cades Cove, but relocated because the government bought the Cove out.  The church had hardened wood benches and  two outhouses...one for females and one for males.  The ladies' outhouse was a three seater with a tiny seat for little ones. haha

I loved holding my papa's hand and walking to get the mail, then on to the local store.  He would always buy me candy canes to munch on, while we walked chatting away.  Papa never got irritated at all my little girl questions.

Those were happy days, and Grandma and Papa were such a force in my childhood.  They're no longer here, but I know someday I'm gonna sit down with them again and talk about the good ole days.

Proverbs 13:22  A good man leaveth an inheritance to his children's children