When I was a kid, I thought I had everything all figured out. I was going to be a famous author and probably end up with my own TV show because I loved to talk so much. I was always the dreaded family member sticking a video camera in your face asking questions. Yes, a video camera. It was the kind that was about the size of a small microwave and had to be held super still to avoid something shaky enough to give you a bout of bad nausea. I recorded everything from family holidays to church events to having my friend record me while I was on the riding lawnmower. I know I may look like I’m all prissy but there were days when I mowed a mean lawn. (Even if I did have my hair in a ponytail accented by a ribbon tied in a bow.)
I will never forget the months leading up to the Christmas of 1990. I painstakingly clipped newspaper sales ads and put them strategically where my dad would see them. It was just a subtle hint. Those things were super expensive back then and I knew it was just a dream. I never would have imagined that my parents would have gotten me one, much less given it to me before Christmas. But that is precisely what my Daddy did. I think Mama was probably ready to choke him but he told her that it would be a good way for me to document my Nannie and her sisters. He had no clue how valuable those videos were going to be for me. I can still hear my Nannie’s voice even though she has been gone since 1991. I can see my Aunt Dana dancing and holding her boobs because she thought they were shaking too much as she danced. For those of you who didn’t get the honor of knowing my Nannie, Aunt Dana, or Aunt Gladys, you have to realize these ladies were all in their late eighties at this time. Aunt Dana never wore pants, only dresses, always had a perm in her short white hair, and frequently sported those SAS shoes. Nannie was a lot like Aunt Dana in that she never wore pants. She always had on a house dress, or if it was a real special occasion, a Sunday dress. But, Aunt Gladys was the rebel. She wore brightly colored polyester pants with a color coordinated top. If she wasn’t in her weekday clothes, she wore a house dress or a Sunday dress. They were the three living siblings from a total of ten. I didn’t get the honor of knowing the rest of the bunch but from what I understand, they were all a group of characters.
So imagine if you will, Aunt Dana in her Sunday dress with black SAS shoes with freshly permed hair, shaking her hips like she was hula-hooping. It was a sight to behold but it got even better when she said, “Well, I better hold these!” as she grabbed her boobs. She knocked her knees together and we all laughed. Aunt Gladys piped up, “Dana, you always did have the prettiest legs!”
As a young teen, I thought her legs looked big and arthritic. She didn’t look like a super model, but she was a tough woman. She had five kids under five during the Depression, and anyone who could do that had to be tough as nails. Aunt Dana would let the occasional curse word fly when she was talking and she’d say, “I shouldn’t have said that,” if she saw me listening. I loved her spunk, even if she did cuss a little. She prayed, she loved Jesus, and she loved music. But, she was Baptist and I’m sure she kept her dancing skills a secret from her church family. She moved to an assisted living center in downtown Birmingham, Alabama all on her own and was subsequently voted the mayor of the center. She was well known for making sure everyone was registered to vote in the real elections and rounded them up to go vote. Aunt Dana impressed me with her interest in voting. I don’t know how far along she got in school but Nannie only made it to the second grade. After their mother died when they were little, they all went to work in the cotton mills. Nannie told stories of how she learned to read and write with a stick in the dirt. I just couldn’t imagine not being in a proper school with paper and a pencil. I thought everyone from her generation grew up like those little girls on the Little House on the Prairie. Little did I understand then but large families in the rural South who weren’t born into wealth and privilege had to work, even the small kids. I remember Aunt Gladys, who was the baby, telling how they would hide them under the tables when child labor laws went into effect. To be able to capture these ladies on video, telling these stories, hearing them laugh, hearing them pray, hearing them enjoy life — pure joy. I didn’t realize how much my videos would one day mean for our family. When I first got it, I was recording Daddy stain a new kitchen table for Mama. He told me to quit recording him and go get my Nannie. I needed them both because the sands of time tend to steal people away far too soon sometimes.
So many of these stories are documented on my video tapes all because a little girl had a Christmas wish. People ask me why I love Christmas so much and it’s because I connect to a time in my life when magic happened. I connect to the memories of the joy associated with giving and the joy of my ancestors. I am highly blessed that I can still pull those videos up and see women who faced adversity like I have never known, yet who demonstrated happiness and joy like none other. Christmas wishes are magical, and for me, keep the memories alive even if the loved ones can’t be here. For a moment, I can travel back in time to see that little girl filled with dreams, and the family who adored her.
Mama’s favorite phrase is “To whom much is given, much is expected.” I was given a video camera and I did something pretty special without even realizing it. I hope I’ve been given a talent for writing, and I can do something amazing with it.
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Messpot Diaries 