The Matriarch

I am sure that folks reading the title of today’s blog had responses varying from surprise (Why would he write about this?) to being puzzled (I thought his mother was dead, and he wrote about her the other week. Both are true statements.) I think these are fair questions, and I think both will be answered in the next two paragraphs.

A definition of Matriarch would be: (from Latin for "first mother") a term used to refer to female ancestors or a female head of a family or tribe

As I pen the words, I am sitting in my hotel room in Kannapolis, North Carolina. Tomorrow, actually later today, I have the privilege of attending the first Mann Family Reunion. Now there have been other reunions in my family but this one is unique. It will be strictly for direct descendants and their spouses of Homer and Dora Mann. Homer and Dora Mann are my paternal grandparents. These two folks have impacted my life in ways that are probably not even fully known to me, and most certainly are not fully known to anyone else.

My grandfather Homer died in 1962 at the age of 54. I will be 51 in two weeks, so I am keenly aware just how young he died. He served in World War II in the Pacific Theater where he was injured by shrapnel from the explosion of a shell near him. I was only 8 years old when he died. It is the earliest memory in my life I have of crying at the loss of a family member. I still recall where I was when my Dad broke the news to me. I actually have few memories of my grandfather. One is of him injuring himself up righting a swing set that I over turned by doing what boys do, swinging too high. He had told me not to do that or I could be hurt. I almost was hit when the set overturned. He was upset with me and disciplined me for it. Other than that, my memories are of my pain and loss when he died.

My grandmother, Dora never remarried. The pain was very real for her as well. They were married when she was 15 (not unusual at all for that era). They raised children in The Great Depression. They shared the birth of three sons, the oldest of which was my father. She lived with the fear of him being at war in the 1940s in a time when tens of thousands of American soldiers did not come home. Their bond must have been an extremely close one. It was probably the type bond to which most of us aspire with our spouse.

My grandmother never attended college, or completed high school. However, her intelligence is something that is often spoken of in our family. (That along with her keen wit which is legendary!) She loved her family, but she was/is a very outspoken person. If you do not know how she feels about an issue – you are not listening! I have a big smile on my face as I write those words and recall her sharp criticism or strong support of various issues.

She became a grandmother when I was born. She was 37 years old if my math works. My father was born to her while she was 16 and I was born when my Dad was 21.

When I was a child, she would on most days care for her nine grandchildren totally by herself while the parents were at work. This surely broke all adult/child ratios in effect today. Her “invisible fence” underneath a large tree in her back yard (that the nine of us dared not cross while playing outside) is the stuff of which legends are made.

My grandmother was one of the most hard nosed, strong willed persons I have ever met. Some would even call her hard headed, but certainly not me!! When she made up her mind on an issue, you might as well stop, she was done! And so were you. (I can smile because I can think of two or three times when I, as an adult, used my wiles as the oldest grandchild to get her to change her mind.)

Grandma has for years kept one of the strangest diets I ever recall. She is a very fastidious eater. She has survived on peanut butter and chocolate for 25 years. She has dipped Tube Rose brand dipping snuff for over 80 years. It is just “her way.”

All of this can paint a picture of a woman that is not realistic. She loves her family and they in turn love her dearly. What you can miss if you are not careful is her wisdom. I want to share one story to relate this aspect of her character.

As I have stated before on this blog, my biological mother died when I was 21. My Dad remarried, and in all honesty I struggled with how to handle that internally. It came to a head in me personally at the birth of my first daughter. I was struggling and involved in discussions with my wife as to what to have my daughter call my Dad’s new wife. It would certainly not be “Mamaw.” That title was reserved for the woman who would never be alive to hear those words. I had no malice. I was just involved in an internal struggle that spilled over into this arena.

In a conversation with my grandmother, I told her of my struggle and decision regarding the title. Grandma looked at me, and then as she looked quietly away said, “Terry, as you get older, you realize that those things are not as important as you used to think.”

She floored me! I dwelt on that sentence for weeks and finally told my wife that I was wrong, that the kids could and should give my Dad’s wife that beloved title. After all, she was the only grandmother they would ever know. My grandmother’s wisdom and one sentence response totally changed a decision I had thought was final. She impacted the lives and emotions of me, my wife, each of my three children, as well as my Dad and his wife.

My family has no paternal leader, but my grandmother is the Matriarch of our family of that there is no doubt. All of us live and breathe her influence whether we give her the honor and credit or not.

Grandma, I love you. I respect you. I may not always agree with you, but I respect what you say. Thanks for impacting the life of this your oldest grandchild! I give you the honor of Matriarch in its purest and most genuine sense.