December 7, 2003

Remembering Granny

I posted a message to the list server inviting anyone for a trip into Farm Creek from Leesylvania. Other than the 'paddle in' trip to Leesylvania with Mike a few weeks back, I had still not visited the park since the hurricane. With the fresh snow on the ground, I expected this to be a scenic trip - one in which I could reflect back and remember my grandmother.

My grandmother divorced for a second time when I was young. My 'grandfather' was really a step-grandfather, and the man that raised my mother. My first memories of my grandmother involved my father teaching me to swim in her swimming pool. "Teaching" is a strong word here. My father dropped me in the swimming pool with little warning and no instruction. I surfaced and dog paddled to the side of the pool - scared, but forever able to keep my head above water.

My grandmother's house had a 3 foot ditch around it. To me it seemed to be a moat, and easily kept me from wondering out of her yard. The driveway seemed to be a draw bridge where it crossed the moat. In later years as crime began to move into the suburban neighborhood, a fence went up around the yard, and it became mine or my brother's job to open the gate when we came to visit my grandmother.

I remember the paint peeling from her wall in the kitchen. I remember how she always wore a strong perfume, and her house smelled like her. I remember she never had an unkind thing to say in front of the grandkids. But I also know she had a strong opinion when we left the room. I remember stories of my mother and grandmother picking cotton when my mother was young.

On the beach of Leesylvania the water was way out. Further than I have ever seen it, even after a long summer drought. Nelson and I headed North toward Farm Creek. As soon as we paddled past Freestone Point the waves rebounding off the cliff made for some interesting paddling, but these soon smoothed out as we faced into the wind and continued our march north.

I remember going with my father many times to watch him work on my granny's car, or fix her toilet, or anything else she might need. I remember after her divorce she shared her home with several men through the years, but never remarried. I remember she got me Wilt Chamberlain's autograph when she worked at Piccadilly cafeteria.

As we neared Farm creek I mentioned to Nelson that I wondered if there would be enough water in the creek to paddle with the water so low. Our paddles touched mud the last few hundred yards. At the mouth of the creek the water looked too smooth. Ice. Between 1/8 and 1/4 inch thick. We wouldn't be able to get in there.

All the years I knew her she always drove a large car. When I was young I remember her snuff box and a spittoon in the house. After leaving to join the Air Force in 1982, I rarely saw granny. A Christmas here, a vacation there.

Nelson and I turned towards Neabsco creek, but past the marina the creek became too shallow, the wind very strong and before long I admitted defeat.

We paddled over to where the park boat ramps were. The docks were gone - destroyed by the hurricane.

We headed back to the launch - I was feeling guilty about such a short paddle, but with the wind blowing hard it was prudent. Loading my kayak on the car I tweaked my shoulder again. Knowing it will take some time to heal I put the boat away when I got home, probably for a month or two. But as short as it was I needed to paddle today. To take some time and reflect on a piece of my past. I'll miss her.

Woody