We’re a Family of Ten Gallon Mouth Mamas

To My Precious Baby Girl,

This blog is dedicated to you, baby girl – is for you, baby girl – because I really want you to know who I am and what I stand for.  I want you to know that I am a real human being with blessings, hurts, opinions, opinions, and more opinions, and lots of experiences to share.  Yes, I know that you see and hear me everyday, that you experience me on a daily basis, but I’m not sure if you really know me.  I want to change that because I think it is really important for you to understand where I’ve been and where I plan to go.

You see, I am a ten gallon mouth mama, and I always have been.  I love to talk, talk, talk – as you know – and I have always loved to gab.  But, what you are learning and what I will continue to share with you, is that you come from a long line of ten gallon mouth mamas.  Boldness, along with talking, is in our blood, deep in our bones, and oozing out of our pores.  It connects our generations, being the life blood of our family.

As I said, you come from a long line of ten gallon mouth mamas, and they have all influenced my life, and hence, yours, too.  I plan to introduce you to some of these ladies through this blog, and I want to start with one of the most influential ten gallon mouth mamas in my life – my grandmother Lucille, your great grandmother.  Her photos, along with the other ten gallon mouth mamas from our family, are displayed in the blog banner.  In the photo below, she’s the child on the left.  Her younger sister, Aunt Rachel, is on the right.

Grandmother Lucille, otherwise known as Grandmother by me or MeMaw by the cousins, was born in 1909, before World War I started and before women were given the vote.  After she graduated from high school, she went to a teacher’s college when women didn’t often go to college.  She didn’t graduate, but she was so proud that she attended. If she were alive today, she would tell you about it.  She got married and had three kids, one of which is your PaPa Don. In the 1960’s, she worked at M.E. Moses, a small store in Plano, Texas, when Plano was a small town.  She was a manager, again before most women were allowed to be managers.  I remember visiting her at that store, for some reason so proud that she worked there.  She was also the president of the senior citizens club in our town, and outside of her family, I think that this was the accomplishment in which she was most proud.

Grandmother was an excellent cook.  She cooked some good Southern chow, which you know all about, because we cook Southern on occasion, too.  She made beans, sausage, cornbread, pies – mmmhhh – all kinds of good stuff that makes my mouth water just thinking about.  She made THE best cornbread dressing at Thanksgiving with just the right spices without following a recipe, and she introduced us to delicious Neiman Marcus bars.  She wasn’t a lovey-dovey grandmother, not like your Nana or Mimi, and she didn’t spend time playing with us as children, even though we all spent a lot of time together, including every holiday.  She did, though, throw a birthday party for me with the family in her tiny house when PaPa Don and Nana were out of town one year – my second grade year, I think.  She gave me a small yellow and red stuffed animal that I can still picture in my head to this day.  Every year until the day she died, she also gave all of the kids, myself included, a card with three dollars in it.  She always included a note in it that always said something like “Go have a hamburger on me.”

We always knew where we stood with Grandmother because she wasn’t afraid to tell us what she thought.  With a bit of a bite, she was the type to tell us if she didn’t like our clothes, hair, or makeup.  It was the 80’s with Odessa bangs, big hair, lots of hairspray, and blue eyeshadow, so she had a lot to say to us kids during those times about those topics.  She would tell us what she thought no matter where she was – at holiday dinners, the bridge table, the church, or the senior citizen center.  Everyone got to experience her thoughts because she was just plain spoken. Sometimes she spoke in love, and sometimes it flat out hurt. Most often, it gave us pause, no matter how we felt after her comment.  She wasn’t malicious or trying to burn a hole into our hearts; she was just “matter of fact” about what she said.  Most of the time, she wasn’t afraid to speak her mind; but, when it came to saying, “I love you,” she wouldn’t say it.  When she got older and we spoke on the phone, I would tell her, “I love you,” and she would just say something along the lines of “same” or “ok” and then hang up.

She always had a dream of living to 100, but it didn’t happen.  She made it to age 97.  She was a life-long Democrat, and I had the pleasure of taking her to vote before she died.  I didn’t want her to miss out – none of us in the family wanted her to miss out because she loved me, our family, her friends, and her nation.  We spent our lives together, and there was no doubt that she loved it.

You, my dear, are a ten gallon mouth mama in the making.  Be proud. Be bold, and show love – more love than anything else. I love you, my baby girl, and am so grateful that I get to share my life, who I am, with you.