April 5, 2012

Silly childhood memories of farm animals and
a grandfather I never really knew.

I'm reading a book that, according to the front cover, provides some instructions on writing and life. Besides writing books, author Anne Lamott has taught writing at UC Davis. She writes that for many students, getting started on the great American novel is as pleasurable as bathing a cat. Great visual! She tells her students to start with their childhood.

While I've never had the desire to write a novel, I do enjoy writing about life in my daily blogs. I don't think I've ever written about my maternal grandfather, PawPaw. He died when I was seven, so I don't really remember very much about him. In fact, I only remember meeting him once, on my third birthday. He and my maternal grandmother were estranged for many, many years. She lived in Bryan, TX and he lived on a small farm in central Texas with his elderly mother. On my third birthday, my parents, older brother and paternal grandparents drove to have lunch with my great grandmother and PawPaw. He took me outside where I saw the farm animals, including goats eating tin cans. I remember being grossed out by animals eating thrash. And they smelled! We enjoyed fried chicken, green beans and rice for lunch. What I remember most about that day was that PawPaw started smoking at the table when he was finished eating. He thought I was finished eating and flicked cigarette ashes in the rice on my plate. Forget garbage eating goats, smoking at the table and using food as an ashtray is the grossest! As I think about that day I can see myself as a little girl, dolled up in a dress my paternal grandmother made for me, and crying because I couldn't finish my rice. I can't remember his face or his voice, just that he used my plate as an ashtray.

Today I'm creating new pillows for my own front porch out of burlap feed sacks. They'll look great with the new landscaping. If it ever gets finished. If the workers ever show up again.