101 Words for 101 Years:
Poetry in honor of Melvine Brown, 1912-2014
I had a thought this cold January morning, the day before the Browns gather to celebrate the amazing life of my grandmother. If I had to express memories of my grandmother in 101 words, how would I do it? I could write a book about my grandmother's remarkable life and legacy, but I am choosing poetry.
Prologue
Love, faith and wisdom you imparted
without abandon -
from Clover Leaf Farm you loved the
land and your family.
You fed us with spiritual gifts, as
well as your delicious cinnamon cake -
Gram Cake was its endearing moniker,
warm from the oven in your cozy kitchen
on a cold winter's day or a lazy summer
morning.
Nights around a card table, rolling
your eyes at Bob Brown's reckless
abandon at overbidding and loving every
minute of it.
Sumptuous feasts at your table,
gathering your family; memories endure forever.
All because of a woman we called Grammy
Brown. God's treasure.
Cards
Four at a table: you and Granddad, me
and Rob.
I was never very good, but Rob was
truly his grandfather's namesake.
Passion, daring, and a lot of moxie.
Seven no trump. “Bob Brown, you're
gonna put us out.”
“Oh garsh, Melvine! Trust me on
this.”
“Mmmph,” you replied with a roll of
your eyes. You knew he was
just actin' “simple.” You knew him
well in fifty plus years together.
Last card played and Rob cleans the
table. Our grandfather catches a steely glance
and smiles, knowing he has irked you.
“Deal another hand, Robbie.”
Gram's Kitchen
Bacon in the pan, eggs on the way, Gram
Cake in the oven.
Bob Brown pulls cereal and an empty
Cool Whip tub from the cabinet.
He goes for his “fine china.”
“Bob Brown, put that up. We have eggs
on the way.”
Full strength coffee, never decaf.
Not “that stuff Judy drinks.”
Rob and I giggle.
You pour him milk in the Hamburglar
glass from McDonald's in Bel Air
back in 1977.
Yes, Rob still remembers it.
“Stay out of that sweet tea, Jon. It
has to last for dinner.”
“Yes, Gram.” I smile.
Tennis
Sunk below Fawn Grove Road,
the tennis court is now a memory.
But it lives on in our thoughts.
Many times, my brother was stubborn
and didn't want to run off in my farm
adventures.
But offer a game of tennis and Rob was
on.
“Gram, we're going up to hit a few.”
She knew what we meant.
Wooden rackets on a clay court.
Two little boys. Hours to spend.
Then Gram would come up the hill.
“Okay boys, Grandma's gonna bop
around for a while.”
Later, at 70, you would still play with
us.
Loving it as always.
Family Dinners
Gathering the family was her greatest
joy.
Every meal she wrote an index card,
and detailed what she served.
Celebrating Sarah's baptism in 1974 –
she wrote what she served.
Pot roast, sea foam salad, Johnny
Beakes' favorite mashed potatoes.
Homemade rolls, diabetic coma-inducing
sweet tea, a mound of sweet corn ears.
You tolerated Sarah's vegetarianism,
even though you said “mmph, that's not right. How can you not eat
meat?!”
“Gram, you need any help?”
“No, no, no. I got it.”
She was queen of her domain and to
watch her work
was a work of artistry.
Dinner Out
We arrive in Stewartstown at Taylor
Haus.
Jodie gets the door, and in her sweet
voice
says “Here Gram, let me help you.”
I am such a lucky guy. My two favorite
gals out for dinner.
Doesn't get much better than this.
Gram walks in with her “buddy,” the
four-pronged cane
that she uses instead of a walker. Even
at 95, Gram keeps it real.
She pushes on to the back dining room,
ignoring the “section closed” sign.
Jodie smiles and whispers: “When you
get to be Gram's age, you sit where you want!”
Amen, sister. Amen.
Epilogue
It is almost surreal that Gram is gone.
When you live for 101 years, it
sometimes seems that you WILL live forever.
I know she is with God. She has to be.
God wouldn't bless her with that long life
if he didn't have a special love for
her.
Gram, a year ago, we celebrated your 100th,
and I fulfilled a promise
that I would pour a glass of single
malt and toast your memory
and offer up tears of joy.
No reason for sadness on this day. How
many families were lucky enough
to have you for so long? Amen.
