Granny’s Habit

I always loved Granny’s house.

For many summers, my two little sisters and I spent a week at her house. We got to sleep in one old-fashioned double bed upstairs in the “middle room.” My mother’s mother was a passionate gardener and kept colorful flowers in her front yard and backyard gardens. Downstairs, I enjoyed peeping through the glass panes of the double French doors into her dining room from the living room.

Everything was neat and clean, replete with dishes and centerpieces, testifying to her competence as a former housekeeper.

Granny had also been a professional hairdresser and sometimes treated my sisters and me to a press and curl. Granny loved baseball.

Her radio radiated the excitement of the sportscasters, whose voices were sometimes drowned out by her cheers for such baseball heroes as Jackie Robinson, Hank Aaron, or Willie Mays when any of their teams were playing.

But her life had not always been happy.

She had fled to Detroit, Michigan, from Georgia during the time social scientists now call the Great Migration of African Americans from the South, following the heartbreaking lynching of one of her male relatives. Younger people have asked how these migrants survived the traumas they experienced.

I know that one —Mattie Mae Peoples— had a habit that I must admit I have adopted now that I am in my seventies. Each morning the first thing I would hear from her bedroom was her cry, “Lord Jesus!” or “Lord, have mercy!” as she woke up.

Now I, too, find I cannot get the strength I need to arise or collect my thoughts until I verbally greet my Savior. I value Granny’s connection with the real and living God. Everyone should have such a role model.

Thank You, Lord, for mine.

Elinor Harvin Burks