Grandma Fannie was the best part of my father. She was his stepmother, and while all kids have their own personal experiences with their parents, I just don't believe what my father would say about my gram. That's because I knew the kind of person he was, or lack of a person. Anyway this is about Gram and what a great and funny lady she was. I will apologize right now for repeating some things she said as far as cultural and the language she used. One thing for sure she had a good sense of humor especially when I asked her questions, things my father said about her. Two things were that she smoked a pipe and wore Army boots. Gram sure had a bust of laughter at those, but did admit to smoking a corn cob pipe. Plain and simple she liked it.Now, my grandmother lived in Brooklyn, born in Hattiesburg Mississippi where she retired to, for her final days with my uncle Jack, my father's half brother. Gramma had a deep southern accent and was part Cherokee. Her deep blue eyes filled with light around those long black eyelashes. When she laughed her full round figure bounced up and down and tears filled her eyelids. I remember the small sized gold watch she wore as if she had a tiny wrist and across so small about her neck looking as if it was meant for a child. Gram had short black curly hair, full with just a fleck of gray and her hair danced just like her laughter. She and I loved it when people said we looked alike. We'd laugh and say that was the banana cream pie.
Every Sunday when I was little Gram would make me a fresh banana cream pie and coffee. I had to babysit my little brother, Jimmy, a spoiled brat that he was, there wasn't any getting away without him. No reason for me to sit with him all the time except I was elected. My mother was there as was another sister and more brothers, all capable, but I was the one who had the good fortune of having a burr in my side. I loved him, but what a pain. You know how it is. I'm just about grown-up and am stuck with a kid brother who tells on everything. Snot.
Many years ago in the city known as Manhattan( The City) we had a black-out. Now here's where a cultural comment came in from Gramma. Mostly she tried to keep those kind of remarks away from us kids. At that time I was working for a big bank across from what was about to be the twin towers. I had all kinds of friends from all cultures who worked with me. Two were Jewish, both named Ann. One was born in Czechoslovakia and one in Brooklyn. They were so different. Little Ann from another country appeared to appreciate things much more, wasn't easily judgemental, or maybe I should say wasn't swayed towards how people are. Yet her experiences to me, outweighed most of what I knew growing up. She lived a life in her country unlike anyone I ever knew. She was sweet, funny and helpful. The other Ann as she was known simply was quick to expect more, want and need more. So here we were wondering how we'd get home to Brooklyn. I know, I'll call my gram. Little Ann said oh, how can you call an old lady to come all the way here to get us. She was thinking the word gram meant old while the other Ann said hey if she can drive let her come. Both girls had accents and very different.
It was decided. I called Gram and she said well honey-child I'll try my best but I don't know the city too well. See, gram worked as a nurse in a Brooklyn hospital and rarely left Brooklyn. But it was about an hour before she arrived in her big BUICK. Oh I loved that car. It looked like a space ship. Well The "other Ann" gets in front right away and Gram saw that, said oh no, you git in the back with your friend. This front seat is for my favorite Grand daughter. Little Ann said oh isn't that so nice of you Mrs. Oh what should we call you. She answered Fannie. That was Gram for ya, always wanting to make people company. We had such fun and as we got comfortable the Other Ann asked Gram, "is this your car, not husbands"?
Gram answered, "Do you work and get paid"? If you do then you have your own money to buy your own car. The other Ann said wow you are a cool old lady gramma. Oh my G-D Little Ann grabbed her own face and said Oh Ann, how can you be so disrespectful!? Gram was smiling, said that's okay I am cool.
Now we were getting closer to Brooklyn and Gram was asking where the girls lived. Both explained. The streets were crowded with confusion and Little Ann said Mrs. you can just drop me off on any corner, I appreciate you come for me. Now the other Ann said Gramma can you take me down the street, a little more, I'm on the right side, you're almost there. Little Ann is looking at me in disbelief. Finally we reach Ann's front door and she gets out, gives thanks and see you Monday to us. The door closes and gramma lets out a remark having to do with being Jewish and Nerve. Little Ann busts out laughing while I'm saying Gram, that's her personality not her heritage..and gram starts again. Again I say Gram Little Ann is Jewish too. But Gram is heated up and goes on..it isn't good enough I come and pick her up, but door to door! Little Ann is still laughing and tells Gram, that's alright Mrs. She's that way at work too. Then Gram realized people were not all alike because of culture. That was the day Gram changed her thinking. We dropped little Ann off a few minutes later and Gram asked me to stay at her house, said she'll make a banana cream pie for me. It was almost eight o'clock. Imagine a gramma who would do that.
Gram was a hit at my sister's wedding. At that time she owned a Ford that had a convertible top that folded into the trunk. So the wedding day arrives and everything was running late which made me happy. After all I was first promised to be maid of honor, then good ol sis gave it to her best friend, so of course, I was expected to understand. Screw that. Gram and I whined about it together, and talked about having a great time anyway. After the wedding we get to the reception, also late and champagne glasses were filled and waiting-and flat!
No one wanted to drink up. Gram sat across from me at the table. There I was in an old lady-ugly blue lace dress, but Gram looked very pretty with a squared neck line dress in flower color prints, and she wore a hat which as she drank kept sliding more and more to the back of her head. Gram and I kept drinking all the glasses that were passed down to us. We giggled about everything. Her husky voiced southern accent as she said to my father, hey fatso, pass me another glass. I loved it. No one could get away with that. She knew how he talked to us.
As gram drank and her hat slid, so did she, right off the chair. Suddenly she was on the floor. My father said to me, get her in the bathroom and then home. Happily I did, but Gram was stubborn. I got her in the car and she jumped out, grabbed the keys and off we went, hood down and her driving ninety miles an hour is a city street zone. I went my pants, laughed and cried. If I was going to die that day, I was happy it was with Gram. But somehow she got us to her house by Sunset Park, only one tire on the sidewalk. As soon as we got in, gram changed clothes, made coffee and started to make another Banana cream Pie. Boy she could make me smile, even now. I told Gram to hold off until tomorrow on the pie and that I'll nap if she did.
Gram lay down in her bed, and in seconds was asleep. I covered her up, kissed her good night, stopped at the Fridge with a spoon. Dipping it in, I knew it would be the best ever banana cream pie.
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