Sweet Home Alabama

Tonight is WYSIWYG, and I was thinking about my grandmother, Mudear, who just had a mild heart attack .  I read a story about her at the 'WYG back in November.

Here's the story:

Sex, Politics and Religion

Or When the Good Book is Too Much of a Good Thing.

 

My stories are usually more scandalous and sexy, which for me, is fun and easy to write. So I knew I was in for a challenge to a story about my family. I see it as a way to stretch beyond my comfort zone. (But the upside is that no Kegel exercises were necessary.) 

I initially thought writing about my family would be relatively painless, mainly because they provide loads of material. But I found it hard to isolate a single event to narrate. In other words, it would be impossible to air all of my family’s dirty laundry in one washer cycle.

In fall of 2003, desperate times called for desperate measures and I had to move back home to Decatur, Georgia. I had no job and no apartment, and I had worn out my welcome squatting at a friend’s place in Brooklyn. So I went home feeling defeated and resigned myself to a life of purgatory in suburban Atlanta.

I slowly settled into the family home where cable TV was plentiful, but privacy was scarce. To keep myself amused, I began studying my family like an amateur anthropologist. I watched them, listened to them and took notes on their habits. I hadn’t lived at home since 1993 so it was easy to be objective.

I immediately notice the political climate at 3573 W@rbler Drive. It was like there are three political parties living at home. My mom is the Republican with conservative family values. She believes that her thirtysomething daughter (me!) should be married with kids and living in a big house less than 10 minutes away from her. Mom has a tight fiscal policy. Mom is a strong believer in pulling yourself up by the bootstraps, and I have a feeling that no matter what, I will always owe her money. And she will never let me forget it. Ever!

My dad is the Democrat, sort of. He claims that everyone had the right to voice their opinion as long they agree with him. He supports welfare, too. I mean He will slip me a twenty-dollar bill as long I help him find whatever it is that he’s lost (like his keys, his slippers, or the remote). My dad is the one of “PC” liberals. He asks me about life in New York, and pretends likes he approves of my single girl in the big city lifestyle--- but really he does not. Then he secretly whispers to the Republican (my mother) and they formed a bipartisan coalition to in order get me a “good” job in Atlanta and a husband.

I am proud to admit this, but I am the product of a two-parent household. I know that it’s so rare these days. My parents have been unhappily married for over thirty years. I often wonder how do they do it? How do they keep the bitterness fresh after all this time? I myself can’t muster the energy to create new ways to argue over the phone bill with a roommate and make it sound really original after six months, a year tops.

And there’s this dark horse political party which is the dependent party I guess my middle sister belongs too. She’s obviously NOT a member of an Independent party because she still lives at home with my parents. She’s 27! I know it seems unfair for me to talk since for a few months I was living with the rents, too. However, my sister has NEVER lived on her own. She has never paid rent or utilities. The first day of the month causes no stress for her. She is gainfully employed whicn funds her designer handbag addiction. A Louis
Vuitton bag is like pure Columbian cocaine to her.

Finally there’s another person in my immediate family that doesn’t live at home. My baby sister lives in Nashville and is a medical student. She doesn’t belong to any political party, and everyone loves to visit her. She is like Switzerland, because she stays neutral. Since she is very knowledgeable with illnesses and affliction, I often call her for medical advice. It’s kinda like having free healthcare.

Since moving to New York, I have been accused by family members that I am too sassy. They say I have a smart-mouth, but this is not new. Ask anyone who has known me for a while. The snark is by nature not nurture. I didn’t inherit it from my parents, either. In fact, the only person who has my sense of humor is my grandma. Last Christmas is when I really noticed the humor and sassiness of Mudear.

My grandma, Mrs. Neida Perry, is called affectionately by her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren, Mudear. Mudear is a term of endearment meaning “Mother Dear”. Mudear is eighty-something and is sharp as a pistol. She has 11 children. I keep losing track of the number, but I think it is 19 grands and 7 great-grands. (You can blame it on being Roman Catholic)

Mudear is a sweet woman, but she has a razor sharp tongue. She’s a honey of a grandmother who gushes over her grandchildren, but she never sugar coats anything when it comes to speaking her mind. On Christmas morning, we presented all of her gifts for Mudear to open. She opened each one and commented. “that’s nice” and “that’s just what I needed” and “thank you!”

When she got to one particular present, her attitude suddenly changed. She had received a bible from my Aunt Jackie. The cover was leather and it was monogrammed with my grandma’s initials. She continued to open her presents, gathered up her goodies and disappeared into her bedroom. About 15 minutes later she came into where my cousins and I were eating breakfast. We were surprised to see carrying more stuff. She brought a stack of about 10 bibles into the kitchen that weighed down her short, slightly frail body.

She dumped the stack on the kitchen table and said “I got plenty bibles”.

“I don’t need a damn bible”

My sister, cousins and one of my aunts looked at her quietly. It was a mix of shock and muffled laughter, when I said, “Aunt Jackie didn’t know what to get you”. 

She just sighed. “Well she’s could have gotten me something else”

One of my cousins offered, “It’s the thought that counts”

Mudear replied, “What the HELL was she thinking, then?”

She walked out of the kitchen with the bibles, and then we all laughed.

Later that night, my sisters decided to make a top 5 list of memorable moments and “Mudear’s Biblical Outburst” easily was deemed number one over other events like my cousins fighting over a new toy, or my alcoholic aunt showing up on Xmas day with liquor on her breath. (True Story!)

That said, I just got back from a vacation in Italy, where I visited Vatican City and St. Peter’s Cathedral. As I was leaving the Vatican, I saw a vendor selling rosaries, and I couldn’t resist buying one. I can’t wait until Christmas to give my grandma her gift!

Finally, let me end with a haiku:

Family Dinner
Everybody talks at once
Noise is relative.