I was standing in the kitchen when I had a sudden memory of my grandmother, I was about 4 or 5 and I wanted something in the kitchen. I don’t remember what, but knowing me, it was probably a cake she had just made. She told me no, I told her she hated me, nobody loved me. She stopped, turned, looked at me and began to sing, Nobody likes me, everybody hates me, think I’ll go eat worms. I just stared at her, then burst out laughing and skipped outside to presumably find worms.
There is no one that loves us more when we are at our most ridiculous like family. I have since sung that song many times and it has always brought a smile to my face.
The more I look back, the more I know how my grandparents and great aunt Effie formed who I became in those first years they raised me. Yes, raised, I didn’t simply grow up; they raised me to become a responsible adult. A contributing member of society, a proud American, a vocal Christian and someone who stands up for those who can’t stand for themselves.
Someone who doesn’t back down from life, who faces the challenges head on and makes difficult decisions. I look at society today and wonder where the parents went? When did raising children to become adults go away? Where did these parents come from that believe children are born knowing all they need to know? Do they not realize if they don’t teach them morals, dignity, grace under pressure, how to think for themselves, no one will?
I take Tessa to places and am blown away by the way parents do not watch their children at these places. I am also blown away by the bad manners of these parents as well, their parents were also lacking in the skills necessary to raise adults, apparently.
My grandfather taught me such a strong sense of what it means to love this country, while my grandmother taught me how to wither someone with just a look, and that food meant love. My great-aunt Effie taught me that in all things love really is the answer. Whether it is to admonish someone for bad behavior or to simply helping a stray animal.
They were the first three adults in my life; the things I learned from them are standing the test of time.
Headstone
A life well lived, that is what I want on my headstone, I think I have finally decided.
I would like a purple coffin, tons of music, food, fun and laughter. Yes, laughter, I want people to be happy that I went home and to celebrate a life well lived.
They say home is in your heart, I have Jesus in my heart, does that mean I am in heaven on earth?
There are days my mind wanders to what heaven will be like. I imagine it with the streets of gold, which morph into visions of the Elysian fields. Maybe I read too much, nah, no such thing as reading too much. However, I could have watched too many episodes of Hercules and Xena.
The bible tells us that everything we love is in heaven. If that is the case I believe I will see Chewie again, and Arthur and my cat, and definitely Gypsy and Whiskers. I am going to need a big backyard with my mansion.
I believe I will be greeted by my son, mom, dad, grandpa, grandma and Great Aunt Effie. Then I will go visiting, I will see my birth mother, my aunts, uncles and cousins that have gone before me. What a celebration we will have.
When I leave this earth, and no matter how much I think of myself as being immortal, I know it will happen, I want everyone to know I have had a really good time during my tenure here. That my life was worthwhile, that I contributed while I was here. That I did a good job with my children, I had the privilege of raising. I am always amazed God gave me the ones he did.
I want everyone to know how they have influenced my and my thought process. My deep love of Oklahoma, how proud I am to be an “Okie”. To have the influence of Owasso in my life, the stability and acceptance I found there, and my best friend for life.
I would like everyone to know I had morals, that was instilled in me from a young age by my grandparents and later my mom and dad.
How much all of my Sunday School teachers meant to me, how much I respect them. Having been a Sunday School teacher myself I know how much work goes into preparing the lessons. Thank you for sacrificing to teach the classes I was in.
I would like very much to know that my life has meant something, that I was an influence to others as they influenced me. As I am about to travel to Oklahoma to celebrate the life of a woman who influenced many, I think about what will be said about me when I go home.
I wonder if others are ever as preoccupied with these thoughts as I am or if it is a trait unique to my family.
Friday Addictions
Well, here we are, Friday, my old friend, you never disappoint, you always bring hope and Starbucks. I can never be mad at you, and after next week you and I will grow even closer as I will be alone with you every week.
Yes folks, after next week I will be working Monday through Thursday, having three days off in a row. It will take some getting used to, as I am loving having the day off in the middle of the week, but I am sure I shall soon acquit myself to the new schedule.
To celebrate Friday, Tammi proclaimed it Sassy Shoe Friday, I of course had to step up to the plate and indeed wear amazing shoes. Picture is on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram, I am sure you will be able to see them in one of those places. I know you are not supposed to play favorites; however, these shoes are special. Blue suede Steve Madden pumps, and yes I know it is not winter or fall even, however I could not resist, they are the sassiest shoes by far that I own.
I have my Starbucks, Peppermint Mocha with soy milk, so amazingly good, ever since Michelle convinced me to try soy, I have not gone back. It just makes the drinks richer; I love it, so creamy and good, filled with caffeine and just loveliness. Who can resist the coffee? Not me, I don’t even try, why bother, I am an addict, I admit it. No twelve step program for me, I revel in my addictions, whether it be coffee, chocolate or shoes. I am not giving up any of them! I don’t think they have rehab for those things anyway, so everyone is out of luck.
So many addictions so little time, my Grandpa always told me that Testerman’s are easily addicted to things. He warned me to never start smoking or drinking, that it was incredibly easy for us to become addicted to those things. He never said a word about chocolate or coffee, although he used to tease my Grandma about her coffee addiction. Oh, yes, I am just like my Grandmother in so many ways. I am argumentative, I believe I am always right, I believe my children and grandchildren can do no wrong, I love my coffee. Oh and I am also addicted to Hollywood gossip and romance novels, another thing she passed onto me. So there you have it, confession Friday, I do believe I shall stop at the book store on my way home and get some reading material for the weekend!
My Grandpa
I have discovered a new past time, Draw Something, you draw something, send it to your opponent for them guess what it is you have drawn. Yesterday I had the word Grandpa, so i drew a red Ford Falcon along with a stick figure, my opponent was my cousin Pat. He got it. Only one of my cousins would have gotten that. I remember that Ford Falcon so well, I remember riding in the front seat sans seatbelt, going for ice cream with Grandpa. My grandfather rocked, he had fried chicken or fried fish for breakfast every day, he had a wicked sense of humor and loved his garden. He did the laundry, not my grandmother, he did the sewing as well. He used to make me Barbie dresses out of my old dresses. I really wish I still had some of those doll clothes. He taught me the best soil to plant potatoes in, how to read and passed on a great love of animals. He was my favorite person on earth. He went home in 1977 and to this day I still miss him terribly.
If I could have 20 minutes with him today I would tell him how much he meant to me and how I try to live up to the standards he taught me. What I really remember the most is him reading the bible on the front porch, wearing his overalls, I think that is why I put my boys in overalls so much. Because they reminded me of my grandpa and it was something I could do physically to connect my children to him. I remember his smile, always there, always welcoming. My cousin Pat looks a lot like him, it is uncanny, to date I have yet to see another relative who looks like my Grandpa.
He loved wrastling and Gunsmoke, and yes, I meant to type wrastling, that was what he called it, they were the only two things he watched on television that I can remember. I also have vivid memories of the way he ate apples, he would peel them, and give me the peels and then slice the apple, salt it and share with me. He had ill fitting dentures and could not eat the peels, to this day I still eat my apples this way.
I loved going to church with him and Grandma and Great Aunt Effie, I don’t think I have the proper words to express how they made me feel. Safe, loved, wanted, welcomed, and above all a sense of belonging. That is what grandparents are supposed to make you feel, I can only hope I give that to Tessa.
My First Influence
Today is International Womens Day, so I would like to tell you about the first woman who influenced me. My Grandmother, Lela Mae Hammond Testerman, who was nothing short of amazing. They say I am a lot like her, I tend to think I am, she really didn’t enjoy cooking all that much. She had a few signature dishes that everyone loved, if there are any Testermans out there that have her chicken and dressing recipe, I totally need that. She had a sweet tooth, and an insatiable appetite for hollywood gossip. Oh and the romance novels, I totally get that guilty pleasure from her.
She was fierce in her love for her family, she would defend any of us to the death, if she didn’t like what was happening, well denial was the word of the day. She taught me how to walk in a hoop skirt because she was convinced the fashion would make a comeback. She once told me that I didn’t have to be so smart because I was pretty, she was not joking. To this day I see that point of view, I see it in the world, I now understand what she was talking about. However, let me tell you something, my grandmother was smart, and funny, and she married well. Not in money terms, in character terms, she totally knew how to pick ’em as the saying goes. She was a good Christian woman, who placed her faith in God and would tell me she was sure everything would work out in the end or come out in the wash. She was my best friend, when I moved away from her I would write her long letters, I am talking 10 pages long, filled with all of my girlish hopes and dreams. She never once put me down for those, she would write me back telling me about her days, the church and Burt and Lonnie’s latest antics in the National Enquirer.
I miss my Grandma terribly, I know I will see her again, I am keeping a mental log of what has happened to her favorite celebrities so I can catch her up when I see her again.
My Cousin Gary
I found out last night that my cousin Gary passed away, he died of cancer. I am not going to pretend to have been close to Gary at this stage in our lives. What I am going to do is tell you about the cousin Gary that treated his kid cousin like she was his equal.
When I was 12 years old I noticed that my cousin Gary stopped coming to Grandma and Grandpa’s when the family was gathered. So, being the inquisitive thing I was and still am, I went to Grandma and asked, “Where is Cousin Gary?” Grandma “He’s in the Pen.” Me “I dont’ know what that is Grandma” Grandma: “It’s jail.” Me: ” Why is he there?” Grandma: “He was framed.”
That was my grandma, if any one of us got into trouble it was never our fault, I miss having someone in my life with that kind of blind faith. However, even then I knew it was not the truth. So I went to my cousin Cindy and asked her why Gary was in “The Pen”. She told me, Cindy is always honest, always has been, always will be. The woman sugar coats nothing. I am not going to tell you what it was for, as that is neither here nor there, what I will tell you is he was not framed.
Some time later, I don’t remember exactly when, my grandmother asked me if I would write to Gary, as he was lonely and missed his family. I am sure she asked others as well, she never said. I said sure, so I wrote a letter to my cousin Gary. I never expected him to write back, I was just a kid and I was positive he had other things to do, even where he was. He did write me back and we became pen pals, so to speak.
Gary didn’t write to me like I was just his annoying younger cousin, he wrote to me like I was his equal. He got out later that year and began rebuilding his life.
At that point we were no longer pen pals, we were cousins, distanced by miles and age. I’ll never forget how Gary treated me, never like an annoyance, always with respect. So, that is the cousin I mourn today, I mourn that his parents, my aunt and uncle, have to bury their child, I mourn for his brothers and sisters, that they have to bury their sibling, I mourn for his wife and children and grandchildren.
I don’t know how Gary lived his life after the pen, I’ll be honest the last time I saw him was probably at our grandmothers funeral. Like I said, miles and age distanced us. However, Gary, if you are with grandma, can you give her a hug for me and tell her I never bought that you were framed.
Angie World 