Granny
Today is my Granny's 90th birthday.
Thelma Turpin Underhill was born January 2, 1916, in southern Illinois. Marion or Benton, I think. She was as British as you could be, and still be born in America. Her parents came over from the Newcastle area of England, Tyneside. That's Andy Capp country, for those of us who remember Andy and Flo.
In 1916 automobiles were still in the Model T stage and paved roads were rare. Airplanes were a novelty. Woodrow Wilson was a first-term President. World War I was raging in Europe, even though we were still a year away from joining the battle. The first commercial radio broadcasts were still 4 years off.
She called me "Sammy". In fact, she called a lot of people "Sammy", and I don't know why. When I was young she told me stories of vaudeville and dancing to the big bands. She remembered driving with her family one day and being terrified when a dirigible sailed overhead. On Christmas Eve her farmer uncle always had to leave the party early, to check on the animals. Shortly afterward, Santa would arrive; poor uncle missed him every year!
One day when I was a little older she asked me if I'd take her to the movies. The off-campus theater was showing a Marx Brothers film festival. So I went as her 13-year old escort and we laughed our heads off. The next night we went back for two more movies. The following night they were showing all four movies, so we went back again. It was one of the most fun weekends of my life.
Granny was an English cook who grew up in 30s America, which meant she had interesting menu - items like ham and egg pie, beef and kidney pie, mashed turnips, well-done roasts, and frozen jello salads. There were also Christmas cakes (basically a giant fruitcake frosted with almond paste. Think of a large, snow-covered mound of dirt - but tasty! - and you'll get the picture) and Christmas puddings (basically a boiled fruitcake - but tasty!) And of course she also introduced me to that great English staple, the Yorkshire Pudding, of which only one thing can be said: there's NEVER enough.
Her apple pies were legendary, her choice of music extraordinary. We danced to Glenn Miller (anyone for Elmer's Tune?), had to stand up for the Hallelujah Chorus, and learned all the peculiar accents to sing Wor Nanny's A Mazer (I'll post the whole thing tomorrow).
But most importantly, Granny was a Christian, and she wanted us to be Christians, too. She left her Bible open on the kitchen table, along with a copy of some devotional guide, so we could read it at breakfast. She paid us a dollar to read great books by or about great Christians. She volunteered at a Friendship Center among our local Pascua Indians. She taught Mission Friends for years - a class of pint-sized kids who needed to learn that Jesus loved the whole world, and that they could help tell the whole world about Him.
Granny died in 1996; it was a good time for her to go as her health had left and with it a lot of her enthusiasm. When I went to visit her the last time I took a guitar and sang and played for her. She couldn't keep up any longer, but we laughed and had a wonderful time. And when I kissed her little grey head and told her I loved her, I knew I wouldn't meet her again on the earth.
In many senses, Granny was a great woman. Not perfect, by any means (and you can ask my mom!) but a true character who made my life better in countless ways. I'm glad I got to know her, and look forward to seeing her again sometime. Because I've met Jesus, I know I'll see her in heaven; He promised, and He doesn't lie. Until then, I have great memories and a personality and life she helped shape. So, Happy 90th Birthday, Granny! And Lord bless ya, tappy-lappy.
Love, Sammy
Thelma Turpin Underhill was born January 2, 1916, in southern Illinois. Marion or Benton, I think. She was as British as you could be, and still be born in America. Her parents came over from the Newcastle area of England, Tyneside. That's Andy Capp country, for those of us who remember Andy and Flo.
In 1916 automobiles were still in the Model T stage and paved roads were rare. Airplanes were a novelty. Woodrow Wilson was a first-term President. World War I was raging in Europe, even though we were still a year away from joining the battle. The first commercial radio broadcasts were still 4 years off.
She called me "Sammy". In fact, she called a lot of people "Sammy", and I don't know why. When I was young she told me stories of vaudeville and dancing to the big bands. She remembered driving with her family one day and being terrified when a dirigible sailed overhead. On Christmas Eve her farmer uncle always had to leave the party early, to check on the animals. Shortly afterward, Santa would arrive; poor uncle missed him every year!
One day when I was a little older she asked me if I'd take her to the movies. The off-campus theater was showing a Marx Brothers film festival. So I went as her 13-year old escort and we laughed our heads off. The next night we went back for two more movies. The following night they were showing all four movies, so we went back again. It was one of the most fun weekends of my life.
Granny was an English cook who grew up in 30s America, which meant she had interesting menu - items like ham and egg pie, beef and kidney pie, mashed turnips, well-done roasts, and frozen jello salads. There were also Christmas cakes (basically a giant fruitcake frosted with almond paste. Think of a large, snow-covered mound of dirt - but tasty! - and you'll get the picture) and Christmas puddings (basically a boiled fruitcake - but tasty!) And of course she also introduced me to that great English staple, the Yorkshire Pudding, of which only one thing can be said: there's NEVER enough.
Her apple pies were legendary, her choice of music extraordinary. We danced to Glenn Miller (anyone for Elmer's Tune?), had to stand up for the Hallelujah Chorus, and learned all the peculiar accents to sing Wor Nanny's A Mazer (I'll post the whole thing tomorrow).
But most importantly, Granny was a Christian, and she wanted us to be Christians, too. She left her Bible open on the kitchen table, along with a copy of some devotional guide, so we could read it at breakfast. She paid us a dollar to read great books by or about great Christians. She volunteered at a Friendship Center among our local Pascua Indians. She taught Mission Friends for years - a class of pint-sized kids who needed to learn that Jesus loved the whole world, and that they could help tell the whole world about Him.
Granny died in 1996; it was a good time for her to go as her health had left and with it a lot of her enthusiasm. When I went to visit her the last time I took a guitar and sang and played for her. She couldn't keep up any longer, but we laughed and had a wonderful time. And when I kissed her little grey head and told her I loved her, I knew I wouldn't meet her again on the earth.
In many senses, Granny was a great woman. Not perfect, by any means (and you can ask my mom!) but a true character who made my life better in countless ways. I'm glad I got to know her, and look forward to seeing her again sometime. Because I've met Jesus, I know I'll see her in heaven; He promised, and He doesn't lie. Until then, I have great memories and a personality and life she helped shape. So, Happy 90th Birthday, Granny! And Lord bless ya, tappy-lappy.
Love, Sammy
posted by David Hardesty | 8:59 AM
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