Grandmother G died just a few minutes before my Dad, a recently discharged WWII sailor boy walked into the house. I never knew her. But there are stories....
(Grandfather and Grandmother G on their wedding day)
The daughter of early Texas settlers married the son of recent French immigrants in a small northern Texas town. Grandfather G provided for his wife and two sons by hauling goods (most often cotton to and from the local gin) with a wagon and team of mules. He died while Dad was in high school.
Being the widowed mother of two sons was not an easy job. Money was scarce, work was hard, but faith was her anchor.
And humor.
(Grandmother G in midlife)
It is hard to tell from this picture, but my Grandmother G had a wonderful sense of humor. Both of her sons inherited it. I always enjoyed hearing my Uncle and my Dad swap stories. My favorite was the one about the snake and the outhouse. Another was about Grandmother G turning a water hose on my Uncle's very proper future mother-in-law. Evidently none of parties involved took offense because the wedding wasn't canceled.
(Grandmother G and her two boys)
I would like to have known her, this small woman who raised two tall sons and weathered widowhood, poverty and WWII with a great heart and a good sense of humor.
And the woman from whom I inherited spunk and some serious eyebrows.
