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.