The Granny Episodes

Almost everyone has fond memories of a grandmother and the Marco Beach Boys and Girls are no exception. Grannies have always been special and are a true link to our past. Without granny we would not be who we are today, and we would not have that unique packet of spices that makes up the recipe of our character. Without granny and grandad, and the influence and inspiration they have shared, the melting pot of Marco, Goodland, and the Isles of Capri might be boring and homogenized, and lacking the charm and charisma that make the personalities of our islands special. Because our islands have so many people from so many different backgrounds and nationalities, our granny stories and episodes are treasures that must be shared.

For me, the setting and the stage for granny and all her episodes was in the Cumberland Mountains of East Tennessee. Granny lived next door and was always larger than life. In-between our house and granny’s home was an apple orchard and a vegetable garden. Every day granny was up with the roosters. Even if it was January, and the apple trees and the garden were bare, granny had a full schedule. During the spring and summer, granny worked the garden. During the late summer and fall, granny canned everything in the garden in glass bell jars. She also made apple butter, apple cider, apple cider vinegar, and secret recipe apple pies with apples from the orchard.

Because granny was so very industrious, and all of her girls were grown, her daughters that were my aunts would visit almost daily. This was especially true during the winter when apple pies were in the oven and chicken and dumplings were on the stove. During the frosty winter days when granny was holding court in her kitchen around a huge table that could seat ten, I would tuck in at the far end of the table and hang onto every word. Granny kept two cats and a German Shepard that were always my companions. The cats and the dog were cuddle-up lifelong friends because granny would not have it any other way. This was the setting as the stories unfolded.

Aunt Ethel was the oldest, and she would often prompt granny away from her knitting.

“Mama,” Ethel began,” I heard the weather folks on the TV station calling for more snow.”

After only a few seconds, granny would drop her knitting on the table, rise from her seat at the table and wade through the mouthwatering aroma of chicken and dumplings and baking apple pies. Granny always made more than one pie at a time. When granny reached the front door, she would open it wide. After she sniffed the frigid air, dodged a few snow flurries, and glanced at the wooly sky, granny’s rugged square-heeled shoes would click back across the hardwood floor and she would sit down again with her knitting.

Finally, with mom and the four aunts waiting in silence at the table, granny would sadly shake her head. “Too cold for snow tonight,” Granny declared, “We’re in for a hard freeze. Any mountain woman could tell you that. I’ll tell you girls one thing for certain…the weather hasn’t been right ever since they've been sending up them rockets in Florida. Everybody knows that.”

Wisely, all the women nodded quietly, sipped their coffee - probably their tenth cup of the day - and then we all waited for what would come next.

“Mama,” this time it was Aunt Gladys. Aunt Gladys was almost exotic. She lived down in the valley and almost all the way to Chattanooga. Aunt Gladys was practically a woman of the world. “Mama, over in Chattanooga they have started serving something in restaurants called pizza. It’s a thin pie crust with tomato sauce, cheese, and garlic.”

Granny raised her head from the knitting and looked around the room. Granny was always perfect. Her hair was gray, but always pinned in a neat bun on the back of her head. There was never a hair out of place. She always wore long dresses, even when working the garden or in the orchard, and up close, granny always smelled like vanilla extract. Granny was an Appalachian mountain woman and proud.

When granny heard about Aunt Gladys’ pizza in a big city restaurant, the look she offered was worried and concerned. “Now I want you girls to listen and to listen good,” Granny warned, “Up here in the mountains, we have both kinds of spices - salt and pepper - and we don’t need anything else.” Granny then paused for effect and raised an eyebrow for Aunt Ollie who was a recent but young widow. “There is one more very important thing you all must know. If you cook with garlic, your house will smell like a foreigner. No mountain man wants a house that smells like a foreigner.”

Again, not a word from anyone at the table, especially the little boy watching in the corner with the curled-up cats and dog, who did not know that the very fresh chicken in the chicken and dumplings was walking around earlier in the orchard before the first pot of coffee was brewing.

After a few more heavy ticks from the grandfather clock on the wall, Aunt Laura took a sip of coffee and stepped into the breach. “Mama,” Aunt Laura began. “Have you heard: Elle Fields and Joe-Ed Ledbetter are hitching up and getting married in spring. We’re going to have a good ole fashioned Tennessee wedding come the week after Easter.”

This time, there were no unspoken thoughts to ponder. Granny dropped her knitting completely and slapped her thigh loudly through her flower-patterned dress. “Well, it’s high time I tell you! Yes indeed!” Granny proclaimed loudly. “It’s high time those two are getting hitched. High time!”

After our snowy winter afternoon with granny was complete, and the visiting aunts kissed cheeks all round and said goodbye, my mother and I started out through the bare trees of the snowy apple orchard to our big stone house that was waiting. As we were walking, we realized granny was right. The snow had stopped and the temperature was falling fast. There was, however, a hot apple pie and some very fresh chicken and dumplings in a basket that granny had packed and covered with a dishtowel. What I did not know about until later was that it was always disappointing to name the chickens as a few of them would always disappear. What I did learn much later was that when granny was slapping her thigh and proclaiming it was high time for a wedding there were ancestral implications to the mountain twang. High time, or Hochzeit in German, translates into wedding in English. Granny always said our Tennessee folk came from Scotland and Ireland, but we were mostly Native American Cherokee. Many years afterward, we learned with “23andMe”, there was no Cherokee in our family at all, all buts lots of Scandinavian and German genetics.

At any given time, there might be a Marco Beach Boy or Girl from the Midwest. There might be boys and girls from England, Cuba, France, Haiti, or Germany. During the Beach Boy Chronicles, there have been Marco Beach Boys and Girls from virtually all the nations from around the globe, but every granny story is unique and episode two arrives next week.

Tom Williams is a Marco Islander and the author of two books: “Lost and Found” and “Surrounded by Thunder - the Story of Darrell Loan and the Rocket Men.” Both books are available on Kindle and Nook.