As an adult, when about to visit my paternal grandparents in Bailey, North Carolina, I would always envision myself ahead of time, sitting on the front porch of their little white farmhouse sipping sweet tea in the summer breeze. In actuality, there is very little breeze inland in July and I would sit on the front porch and inevitably, there would be dozens of gnats flying into my eyes. The only way to avoid direct eye contact with said gnats was to keep moving. So, it would be 98 degrees with 100% humidity and I would end up walking brisk circles around the house like the village crazy... and when that got boring I would walk around the fields. At least it was good exercise...
As far as entertainments go, aside from the local movie theater, Parker's Barbecue, (the gold standard for eastern Carolina vinegar-based sauce), and a small but increasing number of chain restaurants, the area is not exactly hopping. A singer friend of mine coincidentally grew up in the area. She says that in high school she and her friends used to hang out at the Arby's for fun.
This past weekend I flew unexpectedly to North Carolina. My Grandma Mavis passed away this past Friday. It was not a shock. She was 91 years old and had been in a nursing home since almost immediately after my grandfather died 3 years ago. I flew down and met my parents for the funeral, knowing in a weird way that the major ties to the place were now gone. Even though it may just become that place where I used to visit my grandparents, I still have this idea that I will visit there again. We do have some family there and my dad grew up there for a short time.
It's a strange thing about places. I am very fortunate in that I have done a good amount of travelling in my days. The demands of pursuing a singing career have put my tourist travels on hold a bit of course. I distinctly recall though, that feeling of when you happen to find yourself falling in love with a place in your travels. In the back of your mind, you expect that you will one day get back there. So far, there have been many of these places for me, but I suspect that this is a bit like all the books I have fallen in love with. I often think that I will get around to reading certain novels again, but simply don't have time to re-read when there are so many other stories out there.
My Granda Mavis's story was essentially a happy one I believe. Her mother died when she was only seven years old and as the only girl in that generation, she had to help in the care of her two younger brothers. At some point she suffered facial burns in the house but none of this hindered her from becoming a secretary for the FBI, an accomplished farmer, (even driving a tractor when that was seen as un-ladylike) and taking up painting in her 70's along with completing several art courses.
She got married for the first time to a widower, my Grandpa Jack. They were married just a few months before my parents were. So no, Grandma Mavis was not my biological grandmother, but she was the grandmother I had on that side. It is pretty amazing that a woman married for the first time in her 50's should have 35 very happy years with her husband as well as inherit children and grandchildren. As a perpetual late bloomer myself, I find her picking up of the paintbrush a la Grandma Moses quite inspiring too.
On this past weekend's trip, I think that in the rush I did a pretty good job of savoring the place where my grandparents once lived. My immediate family also savored the pork barbeque, hush puppies and slaw. At the repast, (at Parker's of course), Mavis's family was astonished that "those two skinny women at the end of the table, [my mother and I], could put back so much food".
Well, you've got to savor certain things when you can, because you don't know when you will go back again.
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