I loved going to Mema and Papaw’s house in Olney, Texas.
My maternal grandparents were two of the most loving people in my life and their house provided only good memories.
On holidays, uncles, aunts and cousins attempted to make it to West Oak Street to
catch up on each others’ lives,
update one another on their latest struggles,
brag on their kids’ achievements,
compare sports observations, and
generally enjoy each others’ company.
The most important accomplishment
of the day was to enjoy Mema’s cooking.
Uncle Leon, Aunt Bernice, Kaye and Kris,
Uncle Dennis, Aunt Margie,
Denny-Ralph and Denise,
my family, great uncles, great aunts,
and second cousins.
Fascinating stories were told with great skill by my
Great Uncle Bill who was born in England.
His accent made the stories
even more interesting.
He and Aunt Ruth had no children and
traveled across the country.
They took lots of pictures and
in the evening we traveled with them
vicariously through slide shows.
Everyone had a funny story or
an unbelievable adventure to share.
The football or baseball game would be on the TV.
All the men gathered around.
Statistics and predictions permeated the air.
No one had more information memorized
than Papaw.
In the kitchen,
the women shared stories
or they were being entertained
by one of the children.
Outside, children were swinging on the porch swing
Papaw had made by hand
or chasing one of the neighbor’s cats,
or each other.
In the evening, those who remained would
make their way to the back porch
and sit on lawn chairs
or, if they were lucky,
the other swing Papaw had made by hand.
(I claimed partial ownership since
it hung on my old swing set frame.)
I can still hear its squeak;
it was music to our ears.
The best part of the whole experience
was mealtime.
It was a time when we all came together with
one purpose.
It was more than just the food.
It was the togetherness of the moment,
the noise of joy,
the aroma of family.
Uncle Dennis, Aunt Bernice, Uncle Bill,
all the great uncles and aunts,
Mema, Papaw and my dad are all gone now.
That wonderful house with over seventy years of
memories burned to the ground a few years ago.
I miss those moments,
the smells,
the noise,
the feel of love.
I know that one day there will be a
great meal laid before me.
It will be a wonderful reunion.
A celebration.
A great family meal.
I hope God lets Mema do the cooking.
Luke 22:27-30 (MSG)
“Who would you rather be: the one who eats the dinner or the one who serves the dinner? You’d rather eat and be served, right? But I’ve taken my place among you as the one who serves. And you’ve stuck with me through thick and thin. Now I confer on you the royal authority my Father conferred on me so you can eat and drink at my table in my kingdom and be strengthened as you take up responsibilities among the congregations of God’s people.”
