Sadly, yesterday I attended my (I guess…I have never really been very good with familial ties) great-great-aunt’s funeral. She was (still is I suppose) my great grandfather’s brother’s wife. Dear Bertie May was a stubborn, outspoken, strong, beautiful woman. She came from a generation that is quickly fading away. A generation that spent time with their loved ones - talking, quilting, gossiping even, writing - instead of spending every moment glued to a computer or television or video game system or cell phone. They helped neighbors in need - and neighbors helped them when they were in need. A man’s word still meant something.
I sat in the humble little church in Collinsville, Texas yesterday, attempting poorly to hold back the tears as I reminisced the years I have spent with Bertie May while the preacher sang her praises. I thought about my great-grandfather Chesley saying, “Well, hello Laurie!” in his Mr. Ed-like voice I always loved so much. Of all the memories I have of my grandpa, this one, simple phrase is what I remember most. It was common and simple and predictable…stable. He was an old cowboy. Kind. All of his old stories started with “Well, back in nineteen-ot…” As a young man, Chesley had a horse named Outlaw that he used to ride through the desert. He never left home without his cowboy hat and boots on – he even had dress boots for church. However, as he got older, settled down, married Bess, and had children, obviously some things were no longer…reasonable.
Years after he was lassoed in by Bess, they both just happened to be visiting us the day my horse April was born. In fact, Grandpa had the honor of naming her. He was very excited to have the opportunity to play cowboy again for the day! Bess’s family was also visiting us from California, and they videotaped the entire birth. Hours into my horse’s labor, April was finally born. However, within thirty minutes, my grandfather had become worried because she hadn’t eaten yet. So he gathered some hay for the newborn baby and tried to feed it to her. Just in case some of you don’t know - newborns only drink their mother’s milk. =)
Years later when the cancer took my grandfather from us, I popped in the video for some self-inflicted torture. And it was there. I had been allowed to leave school to watch the horse being born (only happens in the country). My grandparents were already at the house. I ran across the pasture towards the corral as fast as my legs would carry me. The mare lie there in the grass with quite a crowd surrounding her. And then it happened. My grandfather turned to greet me and - forever captured on videotape - he said, “Well, hello Laurie.” It was as if he had wrapped his arms around me again - and anytime I wanted him to for the rest of time. He was comforting me even after he was gone.
My thoughts drifted to my great-grandmother, Bess; she just passed away five years ago. She was a real inspiration to me growing up…but I never told her. People tend to take those things for granted sometimes…things go left unsaid. She was an English teacher – and her students LOVED her! Five-year-old-granddaughter I, on the other hand, thought she was a real nag; that is, until I was old enough to understand and respect the life lessons she was teaching me. From as early as age five, I remember her teaching me the difference between “can” and “may” and yelling at me to “Hold your pencil the right way!” She is one of the biggest inspirations in my decision to become an English teacher. She was amazing.
Then I thought back to our family’s “Graveyard Working” day in 2009 – the last time I saw Bertie May alive. Our family (about 200 of us) gathers on Mother's day every year at our family cemetery to clean it up. Everyone brings a food dish (or three), and after we clean up the cemetery, we have a HUGE picnic. The kids play and the grown-ups eat, catch up, and reminisce. My husband offered to take a picture of Bertie May and me together after I had made sort of a big deal about getting a picture of her and some of the other ladies I have grown up with…the ladies who were now getting older…the ladies who stood with my great-grandmother in the kitchen at reunions and yelled at the kids and sent husbands on last minute honey-dos while they, together, prepared one of the finest meals you will ever set your eyes on – and enough food to STUFF two hundred people!! I introduced Bertie May to my husband, and she gave him a big hug like she had known him since he was a child. We sat in the shade of the old church on some lawn chairs, and we talked as I showed her my wedding pictures. As we said our good-byes, my husband took the picture of the two of us together, Bertie May’s arm around me. At the time, I just wanted a picture of Bertie May. Alone would have been fine. But now that she is gone, I see the value in togetherness. I am thankful for the picture of her holding me…comforting me even now.
In the first ten minutes of the funeral, as my memories drifted in and out from family member to family member, those still with us and those passed, the slide of Bertie May on the back wall of the church began to swirl around in circles. As the swirling stopped, it was replaced by an ad – yes, an ad – for “Memories in Motion” with the phone number below the business name. You know, just in case anyone in THIS funeral might know someone ELSE that died or will die this week and is absorbed in thought right now NOT about Bertie May, but about how to vividly display their OTHER loved one’s funeral in a PowerPoint display! But I understand, the economy is bad right now and everyone needs any help they can get. I am not one to hold a grudge…usually. However, once the distasteful ad swirls itself away much like something else I can think of that swirls away in that manner – I wonder if it too would swirl in an opposite direction in Australia – my beloved Bertie May’s name pops up on the screen – MISSPELLED!!! Seriously?? Yes, seriously.
Dear sirs at Memories in Motion,
Maybe if you had spent a little more time carefully editing my loved one’s name instead of preparing your ad, I would not have had MY memory in motion come to a screeching halt when I thought about how disrespectful it is that you spelled Bertie May’s name “Berite May ‘Nanny’ Roberts” at her last family reunion! Maybe YOU need a copy editor or proofreader! You know where to find me.
R.I.P. Bertie May Nanny Roberts. We love you always and we miss you.
Until next time, make sure you ALWAYS have someone edit your writing – no matter how small or simple it may be! You never know when it might make a world of difference to someone else.
Have a great rest of the week,
Laura
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