The Storyteller

On December 29^th my Grandmother, Luetta Mae, left the land of the living. 

What most people don’t know, and her included, is that I have always looked up to my Grandma.  She is the strongest woman that I know.  She knew what she wanted and she would get it. You knew what she expected out of you and you made sure to do the best you could.  She was a force.   She was also such a loving person and she made everyone around her laugh all the time.

The thing I remember most about my Grandma is her storytelling   All of my father’s siblings and his mother are all fantastic storytellers.  I wish that was a trait that I received,however it was lost on me. 

Recalling things that happened yesterday is hard enough..but stories from years past.. forget it.

But my favorite memories are of sitting around any dining room table or the patio at the farm and listening.  The family recalling stories of days gone by.  The crazy things they did.. or said. 

Chasing kids with brooms, Semi-truck hauls with her and my dad and his crazy antics to get around a corner. 

Stories I can’t recall but I can vividly see in my mind where those stories were told and all the laughter.. the jokes.. the cigarette smoke.

That Hale family really makes my heart swell.. I’m the lucky one.  I got to be her granddaughter and her pen-pal.  Her biscuit making helper..and the granddaughter that just could not figure out how to crochet no matter how much she tried to show me. 

I got to play UNO in her living room trying to stack the deck and still losing to my brother and walk the back field finding old Indian arrowheads. 

I liked when she turned on the country storytellers who would sing their songs on the radio with the doors open and the fresh air blowing the tall grass.

I still have a pair of her clogging shoes.  I remember how heavy her quilts were and how safe I felt under them when I stayed the night.

She taught me how to read a map on a trip to Texas.  I was in charge.. we took a couple of wrong turns but I got us there.

And always.. she was telling stories..  while making the story of my Grandma and me.

I missed her when she moved to Alaska..  

My favorite memory.. a few years ago when she came to visit, she got to see my house and she met my husband.. and APPROVED!

Luetta, the mother of my father who left the living 11 years ago   I truly hope that they have met again..and all those that have gone before us are sitting somewhere around a table telling their stories and having a laugh.

-all my love