Monologue: Grandmother to Grandson

 Grandmother and me in 1960 when she visited in Myrtle Beach

My grandmother was only 39 when I was born in 1948; my mother was still just 15. I lived with Grandmother until I was about 6. I spent a glorious summer with her when I was 10. Later in life I would try to visit her at least one a week. I loved listening to her talk. The following is my attempt to capture her voice from memory.


Tommy, I like sitting here on the porch in my rocker, looking over the yard. It's better outside. 

Yes, this was all farm land when we moved here in the late '30s. Elizabeth City County, now part of Hampton. You know, I'm the only one who can still have chickens and geese around here because I've always had 'em. Protected by a grandfather clause. Neighbors don't like that crowing so early, but if they don't want to hear it, they should sleep with their windows shut. Even if they get up before daylight, they won't be up before I am. 

If that neighbor across the street complains to the city again about my tree limbs touching the power lines, I'll walk over there and crush him like an insect. And I'd do it, too, Tommy. You'd better believe it. I don't like the city hacking off my tree limbs. It looks ugly. I planted all these trees here, Tommy, over 300 of 'em. Started most from just a small limb. Yes, about three-and-a-half acres. The city just grew up around me. 

You know, sometimes I think about some of the people my children have married. Ha, I didn't pick any of 'em out. And then they come to me and complain. I tell 'em, "It's your little red wagon, and you gotta pull it yourself." 

Been so much rain lately, the ground is soft. Let's walk around and check on my trees. See this little one here? It was just a twig before I stuck it in the ground, but, look, it's starting to come up crooked. I'm gonna stomp it back down in the mud. There! There! There! Grow up straight, damn you! And Tommy, I bet it will.