Grandma Texas

My Grandma died yesterday.

We called her "Grandma Texas"; I'm not sure why. We never called our Grandma Tiballi "Grandma New York", but for some reason my mom's mother was always referred to as "Grandma Texas", even in the most formal of conversations. I think she really represented that place, that part of our lives, unlike anything else. Now that she's gone, I feel like she was Texas to me. As I think about her, certain little memories replay in my mind:

- a pink dress she made for me, specifically the fabric she used-- it was pink with a minty green leaf print that had a little bits of green glitter here and there.

- the wooden paddle that hung in her kitchen as a silent and permanent threat to any mischievous children daring to enter her kitchen while she was cooking. It had a skunk painted on it.

- the little glass crocks of candy that she kept on her kitchen counter. I actually think it was Grandpa Texas who kept them stocked with peanut butter cups and tootsie rolls, just so he'd have the pleasure of watching his grandchildren cautiously sneak to the kitchen threshold, hiding until Grandma's back was turned at the sink, and then quickly darting in to snitch a candy while she wasn't looking for fear of that skunk paddle on the wall. Now that I'm an adult, I have similar glass crocks on my kitchen counter. Every time I steal a piece, I am 7 again.

- the most incredible food you've ever tasted in your life. Specifically: biscuits, bacon (which she always served in a specific rectangular melamine bowl, which my mom gave to me recently), 2% milk served in curvy glasses, BBQ beef brisket, hushpuppies, pickles, salsa, and an orange cake that I still dream about. Grandma Texas was the one who taught me that measuring cups were optional and that good cooks "stir it till it feels right". She was fearless and masterful in the kitchen.

- waiting for her to get home from work at night. Grandma Texas worked at an old folks home when I was young and often her shift wasn't over until 10 or 11pm. We'd wait up for her to get home and then she'd sit at the kitchen table and smoke a cigarette (or several) and tell us stories about people we didn't know. It didn't matter- it was worth staying up for.

- the bright orange velvety rocking chairs in her den, where she and my Grandpa would sit for movie-watching. It was in this room where I was introduced to some of my favorite films of all time (or maybe they are my favorite because they remind me of being there). I remember watching Gone With the Wind for the first time there, which seemed like an event to me as a young child.

- her voice and her laugh. I just can't describe my Grandma's voice to anyone who hasn't spent time in rural East Texas-- it was warm, hilarious, utterly charming... like chewing on molasses. And she always had some zinger or sassy comment to make that would just land you flat on your ass. She was funny (and she knew it). And stubborn (and she knew it). I remember her laughing from her chair at the kitchen table, a cigarette in her long-finger-nailed hand, usually with an "awww, shiiii-et" thrown somewhere in the chuckling (in Texas, "shit" is a two-syllable word- always). She had a great sense of humor and people frequently drew comparisons between me, my mom, and my Grandma-- we were all three of us sassy, stubborn, proud, strong-willed women with the same lips and the same nose. I loved that.

There are tons of memories that I will cherish with Grandma Texas. She was an amazing woman and the absolute matriarch of my Texas family. She wasn't just my grandma- she was an entirely different world to me. Texas never be the same now that she's not there.