"You owe me nothing for giving the love that I give
You owe me nothing for caring the way that I have
I give you thanks for receiving it's my privilege
And you owe me nothing in return"
- Alanis Morisette
My grandmother, Edith Davis Frazier, and hereinafter referred to as Mama, understood the importance of a price tag. She was also quite skilled at switching them in order to get something she wanted at a much lower price. Not very yin yang Mama! This was before bar codes and scanning, mind you. Thank goodness! My biggest fear was that she was going to get caught and taken by the police, leaving me at the mercy of the mall people. Even as a little girl, I knew this habit of hers was a form of stealing. I also knew to keep my mouth shut, because "Mama Frazier" was a natural redhead with an ass the size of a small shed...and a temper to match. And, admittedly, sometimes I got some really cool stuff on those expeditions. Bribery to be sure...which, I guess, makes me an accomplice. Damn.
Ironically, she didn't do this when shopping for Christmas gifts. The two most popular family jokes with regards to Mama Frazier? Her habit of leaving the price tag on your gifts and her obsession with fancy hand towels. One, it was very important that you know how much she paid for your gift and, two, under no circumstances were you to use the pretty, lacy towels in the bathroom. I like to think she was generous and tidy. Most likely, she was just nuts.
Looking back, I am certain my aversion to shopping malls and fancy towels can be attributed to one Edith Davis Frazier. I should thank her, actually. I shop at thrift stores and rarely spend more than $10 on an outfit, and if I spill a little sauce on my favorite denim jacket...it ain't no big thing. And ask anyone who visits me regularly, you're taking a chance if you don't bring paper towels. Denim is very absorbent, you know.
Since I'm on the subject of grandmothers, I should mention the other side of the family tree - Elizabeth Edwards, hereinafter referred to as Granny. Granny gave birth to a dozen or so children (not sure of the exact number, there was a death or two) and lived a true Christian life. Despite being married to a wandering, guitar-playing alcoholic, she never divorced. She also didn't have a materialistic bone in her body. The only two "attachments" she displayed was a daily need for a hot cup of Chase & Sanborn coffee. (Don't you just love this ad?)
and a Kentucky Twist! It looked something like this:
Granny kept this lovely thing in the cabinet beneath her kitchen sink. Once, and only once, my sister and I thought it was candy and helped ourselves. Needless to say, I will never forget my one and only taste of Kentucky Twist.
Talk about opposites. Mama Frazier was a fanatically neat hoarder, by any means she could get away with. Granny Edwards had very little and would not hesitate to give it away. I daresay it's a very human look at the many ways we can express a spiritual/energetic imbalance between giving and receiving.
So many examples, so little time. I'll cut to the chase.
I didn't know much about my Mama Frazier until just a few months before she died; for along with her tendency to hoard material goods, she kept herself under wraps. I think most people do this...which is a selfish waste of spirit if you ask me. Anyway, during that time I drove to South Carolina every weekend to help my mother with the care giving. One weekend in particular is one that I shall never forget. It was Mother's Day and by this time, Mama was unable to walk without assistance and therefore unable to keep herself clean or curl and tease her hair. Considering the fact that prior to her illness she never left the house with bad hair or an outfit that didn't match, she was very sad. With as much respect and dignity as we both could muster, I helped her into a chair in the shower and washed my grandmother. I washed and rolled her hair, and while she waited for me to put clean sheets on the bed she simply thanked me for "good, clean skin." Afterwards, she went to bed and relaxed into the joy of clean sheets.
Those few months were a blessing. I had conversations with my Mama that are still with me today. And shortly before she took her last breath, she acknowledged something. She expressed a simple regret for having been selfish. She also insisted that I take two small framed prints that her daughter had wanted. This would be my Aunt Jeannette who had already passed. They weren't anything special. Just two simple floral prints that she'd picked up at a yard sale. She said she had no idea why she didn't give them to her daughter, but she came full circle when she gave them to me. I later passed them on to a friend who wanted them.
I saw no point in holding onto that gift. I will, however, hold onto her secret for a perfect meringue.
Wow...I've been sitting on this post for over a year, for some reason struggling with how to tidy it up and find the ending. Without editing for perfection or seeking an appropriate conclusion...the end.
and a Kentucky Twist! It looked something like this:
Source
Talk about opposites. Mama Frazier was a fanatically neat hoarder, by any means she could get away with. Granny Edwards had very little and would not hesitate to give it away. I daresay it's a very human look at the many ways we can express a spiritual/energetic imbalance between giving and receiving.
So many examples, so little time. I'll cut to the chase.
I didn't know much about my Mama Frazier until just a few months before she died; for along with her tendency to hoard material goods, she kept herself under wraps. I think most people do this...which is a selfish waste of spirit if you ask me. Anyway, during that time I drove to South Carolina every weekend to help my mother with the care giving. One weekend in particular is one that I shall never forget. It was Mother's Day and by this time, Mama was unable to walk without assistance and therefore unable to keep herself clean or curl and tease her hair. Considering the fact that prior to her illness she never left the house with bad hair or an outfit that didn't match, she was very sad. With as much respect and dignity as we both could muster, I helped her into a chair in the shower and washed my grandmother. I washed and rolled her hair, and while she waited for me to put clean sheets on the bed she simply thanked me for "good, clean skin." Afterwards, she went to bed and relaxed into the joy of clean sheets.
Those few months were a blessing. I had conversations with my Mama that are still with me today. And shortly before she took her last breath, she acknowledged something. She expressed a simple regret for having been selfish. She also insisted that I take two small framed prints that her daughter had wanted. This would be my Aunt Jeannette who had already passed. They weren't anything special. Just two simple floral prints that she'd picked up at a yard sale. She said she had no idea why she didn't give them to her daughter, but she came full circle when she gave them to me. I later passed them on to a friend who wanted them.
I saw no point in holding onto that gift. I will, however, hold onto her secret for a perfect meringue.
Wow...I've been sitting on this post for over a year, for some reason struggling with how to tidy it up and find the ending. Without editing for perfection or seeking an appropriate conclusion...the end.
