Not all heroes wear capes. My Mom’s Mom, Margaret Dodd, affectionately known as Nana had a saying. I have a bee in my bonnet. Nana was barely 4ft 11inches tall and a 1932 graduate of a nursing program, which was ahead of her time. Nana was a quite strong presence. She was an avid birder, rose gardener and proponent of education. She was emphatic that no woman should be one man away from being homeless. These two stepped up without a question asked. They raised me and my sister as their own. Nana sold Home Interiors which allotted her time at home. I know it sounds silly, but I never really knew what Papa did. He left early and came home late. He worked in maintenance of some sorts, but I never knew exactly where what he did while he was there. Nana always made sure dinner was on the table by the time Papa got home and you could always count on biscuits being on the table. Some of my best memories and worst memories were spent out in the many different fields we would visit picking strawberries, peas, cutting down sugar cane, collard greens, okra, muscadine, watermelon. You name it, we picked it.
There were many trips to the mountains to buy cabbage and corn. Yes, we drove to the mountains for cabbage and corn. They would pull off to the side of the road so my sister and I could play in the little streams that ran along the mountain. They would use the excuse that Nana wanted to align the bank with smooth rocks, but looking back as an adult, I know it was just an excuse to see the joy my sister and I got to experience while playing in those streams. Papa was and still is a man of few words, but when he spoke, you listen. I still get a little scared when he feels the need to raise his voice. I know, growing up, I tested their patience, but they still loved me through it.
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