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I’m A Hero I Rescue Guitars Trapped In The Shop I’m Not A Hoarder Shirt, hoodie, tank top

I looked at my own hands. They are the hands of mother and my grandmother. Already, at age 55, they are starting to slightly misshapen from squeezing/holding too tightly onto things. My fingers, like the women before me, are short and wide — nothing like the Palmolive hand models of long-ago commercials. However, like both women, my hands are strong as I am typically better at opening jars and bottle tops than my husband.

Grandmother’s own hands were strong from years of manual labor. She single-handedly ran a grocery store and managed/cooked/served for its lunch counter, butchered the store’s meat, maintained and sliced its deli cheese and lunch meats while also raising two young boys (she would not have my mother until over a decade later.).

Later, after my grandparents lost nearly everything in the flood of 1937, they moved to higher ground, left the grocery store business, and Papaw began working exclusively for the railroad. Grandmother then became a full-time devoted housewife and mother. Those hands of hers ran a precise schedule for daily, weekly, and annual cleanings, cooking, laundry, ironing, and so forth. In fact, looking at her handkerchief, I can tell it has been worn thin from repeated washings and ironing. If there was one thing Grandmother knew how to do well, it was to create a reliable routine and schedule.

My mom likewise employed her mother’s ability to create a reliable daily structure with my three siblings and me. We got what she cooked (although Grandmother was far more indulgent with her grandkids), and we cleaned with regularity. In fact, every Saturday we were expected to strip the sheets off our bed, remake our beds with clean sheets, and then dust/sweep our bedrooms. Later, when we were older, we were also assigned another room in the house to clean on Saturday. It wasn’t until I was in high school that I realized very few of my friends had the same expectations! In fact, one of my sister’s friends once shared, years later, that she drew inspiration from my mom’s Saturday schedule when raising her own children.

In Grandmother’s daily routine, and later, in Mom’s schedule, there was also set aside time for rest and relaxation. You worked hard when it was time to work, but there was built-in time for reading and relaxing. Grandmother’s house, and later my own childhood home, was filled with books, magazines, and bibles. Perhaps, it was because Grandmother’s 8th grade education bothered her, even though she was more educated than Papaw, reading was especially important to Grandmother, hence reading was also important to my own childhood home.

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