Memories and Musings: "My Dear Grandmother Richey"

It's been quite some time since I shared a blog or podcast, so no time  like the present to start again. This is the first of two weekly podcasts  I will share. This one, Memories and Musings, is my personal  memories and thoughts. The second, My Take, will be my own  opinion about a specific issue or event, past, current or future.  Today I am going to enjoy remembering my late grandmother Richey.  She was one of the most selfless and loving people I have ever known.  Her maiden name was Jaime Grace Yeager. She married Ben Richey,  my late grandfather, who died of a heart attack in 1970. They had one  child, a son, David Richey, my late father, who died of a brain tumor  in 1977. I have written tributes about my father, both for his birthday  and for Father's Day. He inherited his wonderfully innate capacity for  loving all people, without judgment or prejudice, from both his parents,  but particularly so from my grandmother. She once said honestly and  sincerely, "It's not hard for me to love people." And she truly did. She  loved everyone with whom she came into contact, even those who  were less easy to be around.   She and my grandad founded a boys home in Abilene, Texas in 1947,  called the Abilene Boys Ranch. Many times in my childhood, when my  family visited the ranch during Christmas or on our way out west to one  of the many music festivals where my mother was on the faculty, my  grandmother would take us around to meet, or see again, all the ranch  staff and the boys. Everyone we met clearly loved my grandmother  because she loved them. They were always incredibly friendly with us,  and smiled and laughed because they were happy to see my grandmother  and to be with her. We all became instant family, and my grandmother's unconditional love was the catalyst. Her love was beautifully infectious.  Because my grandfather, Ben Richey, died when I was only 11-years-old,  I have fewer memories of him. But I certainly also remember him dearly. In fact, one frightening day stands out to me that made me proud of both  my grandmother and grandfather. It was winter, so we must have been  visiting them during Christmas. But on one of the days, I was outside  playingin the snow outside my grandparents house on their ranch when  my grandmother came out of the front door. Neither she nor I knew that  ice had formed on the steps just outside her front door. Suddenly, one of  her feet caught the ice and she slipped and fell, landing hard on her backside. I called out to her and said, "Grandmommy, are you ok?" Not moving, she  looked up and replied quietly but firmly, "No. Go get your granddad."  I wasted no time and ran to where I knew my granddad was working.  When I knocked on his office door, I heard his voice answer, "Come in."  When I entered the room, he was there leading a meeting with about  two or three other men. All I needed to say was what I did say,  "Grandmommy has fallen on the ice." My granddad was less of an  effusive man, either in friendliness, energy, or affection than my grandmother,  but the moment he heard my words he moved with lightning speed to get his  coat, immediately ending the meeting. The only important thing became the  safety of his wife. It was the most protective and loving moment I ever saw  in my granddad toward my grandmother. His jump to action had emotional  worry as well as urgent energy. The next memory I have of that incident is  playing cards with my grandmother while she sat in a non-reclining easy  chair after returning from either seeing her doctor privately or going to the  hospital. She was sitting comfortably with a blanket draped over her lap  and legs. Thankfully, she had not broken anything and her injuries were  minor. It could have been much worse. But despite the bad fall, she  maintained her sweet warm smile and laughed with the mirth of the  card game, as if she had never been hurt. No complaining, just sweetness  and radiating love. That was my dear grandmother Richey. I remember a cute moment when my grandmother was firm after being nice.  This was when my brothers, Craig and Evan, were very young, easily both  under 10-years-old. I wasn't present, but my grandmother related the event  to me later. One day, Craig and Evan were playing together, and Craig must  have said or done something that was disagreeable to Evan because Evan  yelled out in protest. My grandmother first tried to protect Evan from Craig,  saying to Craig, "You're not gonna do your brother that way." But Evan  surprised her by coming to Craig's rescue, maybe just giving my grandmother  a playfully threatening look, or maybe Evan actually verbally sassed  back at her. But my grandmother then retorted to Evan, "Ok, then, young man,  you fight your *own* battles!" A very funny story I know about her I was also not privy to see, perhaps  because I was not yet born. But it was also at Christmas. She and my  granddad were in their living room. She was decorating the Christmas tree  and had used a step-ladder to be able to hang an ornament on a higher  branch, perhaps the star at the treetop. In any case, in reaching to hang it  on the tree she accidentally dropped the ornament and it fell to the floor.  My granddad was sitting close by in a reclining easy-chair, probably  watching football on TV. My grandmother was irritated that she had  clumsily dropped the ornament, but she was also annoyed at my granddad  for being lazy and watching football and not offering to help her decorate  the tree; maybe especially because he was tall and could easily, or more  easily, have reached the top of the tree. Upon dropping the ornament, my grandmother momentarily couldn't control her slight temper and she let  out a quiet but involuntary, "Damn!" Even mild swearing was taboo,  or at least quite frowned upon, in many homes at that time, especially  from women. So my granddad was understandably surprised out of his  reverie with the football game at hearing my grandmother utter a word  of profanity. They also both had typically light and pretty Texan  southern-accents. He looked up at her and said firmly, but with more  astonishment than anger, "Jaime...whenjoo start talkin' like *that*?!"    My grandmother was absolutely loving, but she also had a firm and  feisty hair. She replied resolutely, "Since *ratt now*!!" My granddad,  knowing better than to further challenge her, said nothing more. She  wore the pants between them at that moment—and probably at many  other moments, too! I remember her free sense of humor, too. Two moments were with  words she considered "off color." Years after my grandad's death,  when she was visiting us in Winston-Salem, N.C., she was in our  car with us out on errands. She was sitting in the driver's side back  seat, my brother Craig was driving, my mother was sitting next to  my grandmother, and I was sitting in the front passenger seat.  Craig and I were having fun relating about some comedians we  had seen recently on TV. I don't remember which comedians we  mentioned, but Craig remembered one of the lines. The comedian  had noticed a sign that was misspelled. It read: "Pubic Parking."  Upon hearing that, my grandmother threw her head back laughing  freely and without any restraint or reservation. I had never seen her  laugh so easily, especially at a joke of a sexual nature. She laughed  so hard that her eyes closed! Another moment, maybe during that  same visit, we were all eating dinner in the kitchen together.  My grandmother was telling a story that involved quoting someone  who swore. As she got to that part, I had just taken a swig of milk.  But when she tried to quote the person's profanity, she hesitated  so that all that she could manage to say was only part of a syllable  with an extra sound. It sounded like, "Shibbuh...shi...shibbuh..."  I had not yet swallowed my mouthful of milk. My milk sprayed from  my mouth onto the table with my involuntary laughter! Everyone else  erupted in laughter, too, even my grandmother! Still another time,  I was visiting her at her ranch while I was working on my Master of Music  at Southern Methodist University. During one conversation we were  enjoying together in her living room, I think it was she who told a story  in which she also had to quote someone else swearing. This time I think  she managed to get the word "shit" out, but then she laughed hard  and blushed with embarrassment. When we both could talk again  after laughing, she said, "I haven't laughed this much in years!" My grandmother was also very self-sufficient. In fact, she said more than  once, "I don't want to live so long that I can't take care of myself." Ironically,  she actually got her wish, and in a very bizarre way. Someone religious  might say a providential way. We were not with her, and no one was with her.  Someone related this to us. On a normal day of doing her chores, my  grandmother realized that she needed to go outside for something or to  check something. What she didn't know yet was that it happened to be  very windy that day. When she opened her apartment door to go outside,  the wind was so strong that it pushed the door open faster and stronger  than she was expecting. Before she could react fast enough, the door  made quick, abrupt, and hard contact with her head and knocked her to  her carpeted floor and unconscious. Very sadly, she never regained consciousness. I am not religious, but because my grandmother was,  I sometimes fancy that she proved my family and me wrong that day.  God might have actually answered her wish, taking her life with the wind  and her door, thus sparing her from any chance of being dependent on  anyone in her advancing years. Two years after my grandmother died, the name of her and my  granddad's ranch, the Abilene Boys Ranch was changed to the  Ben Richey Boys Ranch to honor my grandfather. Actually, because my grandmother worked tirelessly with my granddad on the ranch for all  those years, the name should have been changed more simply to the  Richey Boys Ranch, to honor both my grandfather and grandmother.  Thank you all so much for listening and letting me share with you about  my grandmother Jaime Grace Yeager Richey. I look forward to being with  you next week, and love to all of you! ReplyForward