Remembering Aunt Mary

Grannie Annie's sister, Mary passed away today after a long battle with cancer. I have always admired my great aunt Mary - she's everything you'd imagine in an fierce Texas matriarch.

While I've been gathering stories from Grannie Annie, of course quite a few have come up about Aunt Mary. My favorite story is about the time she was visiting Grannie Annie when Grannie Annie lived in the old family farmhouse. Mary observed that the stove my grandmother was using was on its last legs, yet my tight-fisted grandfather refused to buy a new one. Now, I wasn't there to see the stove, but I can imagine, knowing Pop, he wouldn't buy one no matter how bad it was; in fact, despite my grandmother's pleas, he would have been just fine with her cooking out over an open campfire in the yard. Looking out for her sister, Aunt Mary finally told Pop that if that stove was still there the next time she came for a visit, she would drag it out into the yard and chop it up with an axe. Well, legend has it, when she next came for a visit, and the stove hadn't been replaced, she kept good on her promise and took an axe to it!

Now I have to ask you, who does this, except for a rockstar or one of those strong Texas women who has had enough??

Before Aunt Mary passed away, I shared this story with one of her granddaughters who had never heard it. As the collector of these stories I am proud to be able to pass them on - but prouder still of the powerful blood that flows through our veins. I hope her granddaughter will do what I do with these stories of our grandmothers and use them to remind us of how strong we really are.

Grannie Annie Joins a Sorority & Gets a Cell Phone

There comes that dreaded point for our parents and grandparents, when we realize they can no longer live at home independently anymore. If you’re like me, the thought of a “nursing home” sends a chill through your spine.

At age 86, and with her memory getting worse, it got to that point for Grannie Annie recently. We are blessed that there where a number of options open to her - she could go live with my mom or perhaps have a nurse come and stay with her.

A third option however, presented itself when she was visiting some friends in an "assisted living" house. This house, a far cry from the dreaded nursing home, allows each resident their own apartment which fans out from the common area. The common area includes the dining room, kitchen, TV room and a library. When I went to see her this past weekend, however, there wasn’t much reading going on in the library. Instead, in true Texas fashion, the ladies where gathered around a table playing dominoes. As I toured the house it dawned on me that it looked and felt more like a sorority than an assisted living home.

I was sad when I heard Grannie Annie would be leaving her home. I kept trying to look on the bright side – she’d have 3 square nutritious meals a day and she’d get all of her medication taken on time (she would forget to do that most days). Just as important for a social creature like Grannie Annie however, she would be surrounded by people with whom she could laugh, gossip and play dominoes.

On the way to see Grannie Annie, I stopped by her house to help my mom pick up a few things. It was so strange to see her bedroom and so many of her personal items packed up. The sadness that I had kept at bay by focusing on the bright side returned as I thought of how things used to be. Then I went out to her backyard and looked out across the cattle pasture. I remembered one long walk in particular that I took there nearly 20 years ago – the decisions I made on that walk forever changed the course of my life. Then I realized, I wasn’t just sad for Grannie Annie. I was sad for me too. This major life event of moving out of her home reminded me that I’m getting older too.

I just talked to Grannie Annie on her new cell phone. She’s never had one before, but at her new place it’s the best way to keep in touch with her. Like the rest of us, with any major life change, Grannie Annie has had a sleepless night or 2 at her new place but she’s also happy she’s moved there. She may have had to let go of some things that come with living alone, but she’s OK, because she’s embracing the opportunities that this new phase in her life is bringing her.

Just one more reason Grannie Annie is my hero.

Stirring the Pot While Trying to Stay Purple

Grannie Annie loves Sarah Palin. I mean she really loves Sarah Palin. She loves her so much that, in all her years I've only known her to read the Bible or other religious books, and yet she's requested Palin's "Going Rouge" in large print.

I don't love Sarah Palin. I inwardly sneer at her faux pas and blunders.

But I do love Grannie Annie. I have learned so much from her, from her stories, from her life, from her humor, from her strength. When our family gets together we play dominos and sometimes I catch myself, oblivious to the game, simply staring at Grannie Annie. In that stolen moment, I am present to how much I love her and I try in vain to make the moment last as I know she won't be here forever. I'm only brought back to the game when her blue eyes catch mine as she fusses at me to hurry up and take my turn.

I did something very dumb recently on my FaceBook page. I posted a political comment in my status and wow, did that stir the pot! The responses started to fly and it got really nasty. I've always prided myself in not identifying with either political party too much. "I'm not Red or Blue", I'd say, "I'm Purple" as I aspired to blend the best of both political views. All this brew-ha-ha raised on FaceBook though reminded me of why I'm making this documentary - I am always amazed at how different Grannie Annie and I are: she's a native Texan, I'm a native Yankee. She didn't finish high school, I graduated from the University of Texas w/ Highest Honors. She had her 1st baby at 18, I'm childless at 39. She is a devout Southern Baptist, I'm best described as New-Agey. Then there is the Palin thing.

Yet for all of our differences, we're family, we're inextricably connected. For all of our differences, I only exist because she exists. And I don't just mean in the obvious physical sense. I mean for every hardship she's been through, I've benefitted from it. She essentially raised my mother on her own for many years and the stories of her strength and family devotion have shaped me. When I need strength, I draw on Grannie Annie's example.

Grannie Annie has also taught me that our differences are irrelevant. In fact, in many ways, they make us the same. Her strong spiritual life practiced as a Baptist for example, has taught me the importance of a connection to God, though I practice it differently from her. Isn't America like that? We are so diverse, yet essentially aren't we the same? Our political opinions or religious views will vary, but don't we rely and depend on each other?

Yes, Grannie Annie and I are very different from each other, yet it is from her that I've learned how to live.

My Two Left Feet

As Grannie Annie puts it, she's "danced many a mile" in the dance-halls of Central Texas. That’s what kept running through my head as I stumbled all over my partners’ poor feet to Haybale! last night at the Continental Club. I’ve lived in Texas for over 15 years now, but each time I attempt to Two-Step, my patient partners must whisper, “two to the right, one to the left...that’s right, that’s the Texas Two Step...”, as if it were my first time. Sadly, its not. While I am usually proud of my mixed heritage (1/2 Yankee, 1/2 Texan), when I attempt to Two-Step, I blame and curse my Yankee half for my clumsiness. Of course I realize Yankees can dance, but the love Texans have of taunting Yankees must be hard-wired in my brain and my mind engages in its own, modern, Civil War.

For Grannie Annie music and dancing were an integral part of community life in rural Texas. As a small child, her parents would pack up the children and head to the dancehall off of Court Street in Seguin. The dances were a family affair with children sleeping on quilts and under benches while their parents Two-Stepped through the night. It was at this same dancehall, under the watchful eye of her parents, that a 17-year-old Grannie Annie met my grandfather, a handsome soldier fresh off the farm from East Texas.

While filming Grandmother Storyteller, I've had the opportunity to discover and film traditional Texas music as it lives and breathes today. There are now efforts to revive and preserve the old dance-halls, but in communities sometimes too small to sustain even a post office, local talent has been gathering for years to sing and play the traditional music of the region. Thank goodness for my camera, otherwise my two left feet may have had me banned from these gatherings years ago.

To experience authentic traditional music of the region for yourself, check out the regular jam sessions of the towns and communities listed below. If you know of other gatherings, please let me know!

Columbus

Giddings

Harwood

Lockhart

New Braunfels

Runge

Seguin

Tilmon

Victoria

Yoakum

The photo above features Grannie Annie's Uncle Eddie charming the ladies.

Capturing Fading Memories

All my life I've been captivated by the stories that have taken place at different stages in Grannie Annie's life: her childhood, young adulthood, middle and old age. Hearing them from her now, at 85 years old... it's like witnessing the full circle of a life.

I've noticed in filming her over this past year that holding a conversation with her is sometimes challenging - she'll start to talk and within a minute loop back on the conversation and start it again from the top. Other times she'll go off on a completely unrelated topic from which we started. She can't always tell you what happened 30 minutes ago, but she can tell you every detail of exactly what she was wearing the night she met my grandfather at a barn dance in Seguin, Texas nearly 70 years ago.

Last night, my sister-in-law, Donna, and I had a heart to heart. Donna has a bit of knowledge about Alzheimer's and some of the things she said ring true for Grannie Annie. I'm not well informed on Alzheimer's so I don't want to jump to conclusions... but it forced me to confront the reality of Grannie Annie's current physical and mental health.

I slept last night with a heavy heart with this conversation weighing on me. But it did make me extremely grateful that I had begun filming her and her beloved stories when I did. Before she went to bed I curled up in her lap as she sat in her rocking chair and asked in a small voice, "Grandma, tell me a story." On the spot she invented a story about how she had a little baby girl and when she grew up, a little elf brought that little girl her very own magical baby girl. I cried as she spoke and prayed that the moment would never end.

Road Trip!!!

Well, most of the road on this trip will be on the way to the airport ~ Grannie Annie wouldn't do very well in a car from Texas to Atlanta. If you've ever taken a road trip through Texas, you know most of the journey is just trying to get out of The Lone Star state.

Tomorrow, Grannie Annie and I are flying out to spend the Thanksgiving holiday, which also happens to be her 86th birthday, with my brothers and parents. This will be our 2nd trip together; the first was a 12 day excursion in the summer of 2007. I hadn't spent that much solid time w/ her since I was her little Yankee granddaughter coming to visit during my summer vacations.

Our trip in 2007 was enlightening and a motivating force in me finally getting serious about filming her like I always said I would. During this trip I saw her differently than I did as a child. As an adult, I was surprised to discover how much alike we are in many ways. This got me to thinking about the stories I've heard her tell and how much they've dominated my psyche. That's led me here, to making this documentary about her influence and the power of storytelling.

Another thing about the 2007 trip that surprised me ~ my awe of her scared me into quitting smoking. You see, she isn't your typical "cuddly grandma". Oh, she's very loving, but she'll tear you up too. I had been struggling to quit for years, but when this trip came up I was so afraid of her withering disapproval I stopped cold. When I came back from the trip, it was out of my system and have been nicotine free ever since. One more thing I owe to her. Now, I hid that I smoked from her, so if you talk to her please don't rat me out! I'm telling you, I'm kinda scared of her.

So here we go ~ another adventure w/ Grannie Annie! Some around her fear this may be her last trip. But not me ~ I'm convinced she'll live forever. Either way, for this journey, I'm armed and ready w/ my camera!

Grannie Annie: "I feel like a blog" and Balancing Film and Family.

I spent this past weekend at Grannie Annie's. I always take my camera with me, but this weekend I was attending a funeral for a soldier killed in Afghanistan and didn't have the strength, emotional or otherwise, to take my equipment or to film.

While attending the funeral I was absolutely moved by the show of support from the soldier's hometown, Yorktown, TX. Those who didn't fit in the church lined the streets for miles with flags and signs of love and gratitude for this soldier. I'm not kidding, they were lined up for miles as we made our way from the church to the cemetery. The whole community showed up; the whole community grieved. It was a surreal event to witness. Having only the camera in my cell phone, I snapped pictures - all I could think was I wanted our soldiers overseas to see this and know how much they are loved and I wound up putting them together in this short video. (Click here for video)

From putting this simple video together, I am reminded of two things: 1/ to not be afraid to take risks and just jump in and make the film (despite having to improvise and shoot on my cell phone and edit in just a few hours) and 2/ despite living in Texas for over 15 years, I am still awed by the beauty of life in these "small" communities.

Back at Grannie Annie's house and with no camera with which to film her, it turned out to be one of the best times I've spent with her in a while - I was able to just "be" with her - which reminded me all over again why she's so special. When I'm filming, it seems I'm always concerned about the shot or the sound and kicking myself for missing something and hoping she'll do it again. I've had a number of offers from other filmmakers to come down and shoot for me, but I've been concerned that a stranger with a camera in her house would kind of wig her out. But on the other hand, she seems to sparkle a bit more when she has company - plus, there is much to our interactions that reveal a lot about her and her influence on me.... hmmmm, one of the major themes of Grandmother Storyteller.... hmmmm, I'm talking myself into something here....

While visiting with Grannie Annie I mentioned that she now has a fanpage on FaceBook and her very own blog. "A blog?", she responded, "well, that's about right, I feel like a blog." I love her way with words.

Sorry, I know in my 1st post I told you Grandmother Storyteller is a lighthearted documentary and these last 2 posts have greatly concerned death. But if I've learned anything from Grannie Annie, it's that life isn't always easy or fair - but it's important to maintain your sense of humor, even when you feel like a blog.