My G.G.'s House

Growing up, I would go to G.G.'s house. I loved this house - Westover as she liked to call it. It smelled like fresh bread, the floors creaked when you walked, and every room had something for me to explore. The library had so many books that I would eventually have my nose stuck in as I grew older. I also loved to climb the magnolia trees which I fell out of more than once.

I have been told that I was allowed to do more in her house than any of her grandchildren (please note that the grandchildren were boys -- 6 of them). No child was ever allowed to go in the living room.... until me. There in the living room was the tea set that I thought was once a queen's. The writing desk had old letters from her brother in WWII and photographs that I loved to read and imagine who the people were. On one table was a little music box that G.G. eventually gave to me. I loved to twist the crank and listen to the song over and over. The song is "Always" by Irving Berlin. My great-grandfather whom I never met bought it for her. It was their song and he would sing it to her. The piano was there in the far corner. I loved to "play" on that piano. I would make up all kinds of songs which I'm sure drove my parents crazy, but my great grandmother loved it. G.G. would play for me and I would sit on the bench and listen to her. The last time I heard her play the piano was at my13th birthday when she sang and played hymns at the piano in our house.

There is something about that house that I can't explain. Not too long ago I was in a store and I picked up a candle to smell it. The familiarity of the smell smacked me in the face and the emotions came pouring in (no I didn't cry). So, I stood in the check out line smelling this candle trying to figure out what was so familiar about it. I finally realized it just as I was about to check out. It smelled just like G.G.'s house. It smelled like the library, the pillows, the rooms I would hide in and explore for hours. I loved that smell. It made me realize just how much I missed her and that wonderful house.




G.G.'s 80th birthday


Today would have been her 96th birthday, but I know she is happy where she is :)

My Kind of Fall

This past weekend I was packing up stuff in my room at home and found some old photographs. Some of them were fall photos from when I was little and they made me smile!

Every leaf speaks bliss to me, fluttering from the autumn tree.

~ Emily Bronte



Me and my Daddy



Me and my Mama

My Bobo



Me :)



I loved looking back at all of the photos and remembering little details I had forgotten about. Take the time to dig back through your old photos. It's a lot of fun. :)

A Bushel and a Peck

Growing up my Nannie would always say to us grandchildren, "I love you bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck." Once we reached the age to repeat it, we would say it with her. She still says it today and we say right back.

It's funny now because the youngest in the family is convinced that it is "I love you a bushel and a puddle." Of course no one would correct him. It's his and Nannie's "thing."

You can purchase this HERE.

I didn't realize until a few years ago that this was actually a song. Many of you that had this phrase either told or sung to you growing up may not have realized it either. I thought it was something my Nannie just said to all of us. I also thought it was a Southern thing, but I guess if it's up for claiming we would! If you want to look it up, you can find it in the Broadway play "Guys and Dolls" or you can hear Doris Day singing it.

Here are the lyrics:

I love you, a bushel and a peck!
A bushel and a peck, and a hug around the neck!
A hug around the neck, and a barrel and a heap
A barrel and a heap, and I'm talkin' in my sleep.
About you.
About you!
About you!

My heart is leapin'!
I'm having trouble sleepin'!
'Cause I love you, a bushel and a peck
You bet your pretty neck I do!
Doodle, oodle, oodle.
Doodle, oodle, oodle.
Doodle oodle oodle oo.

I love you, a bushel and a peck
A bushel and a peck, go and beats me all to heck!
Beats me all to heck how I'll ever tend the farm
Ever tend the farm when I want to keep my
Arms - about you -
About you!
About you!

The cows and chickens
are goin' to the dickens!
'Cause I love you a bushel and a peck
You bet your pretty neck I do --

What are a bushel and a peck? Well, they are types of measurements. I looked it up to make sure and a bushel equals about 35 liters while a peck is about 9 liters. So, if you love someone "a bushel and a peck" you must love them a lot! :D

It's a cute song and fun to see where the phrase comes from, but it's not as special as having someone you love say it to you!

For the Love of G.G. Music

My great grandmother, Ina Mae, was the quintessential southern lady. When I was born she wanted me to call her "Great Grandmother." It came out as G.G. As the first great-grandchild I had the naming rights. :)

G.G. loved classical music. Love isn't strong enough, she ADORED classical music. A very talented pianist, she dreamed of going to Juilliard. She grew up on a gorgeous farm that she called the "Homeplace" and was one of many children. She was actually accepted to Juilliard, but could not afford to attend school there with so many children in the family. Instead she decided to attend Meredith College where she graduated in 1936. I will graduate from the same school 77 years after she did. It kind of blows my mind!

As a child going to G.G.'s house there was always classical music playing. On days she was feeling spunky she played it so loudly that you could hear it before you even entered the house. It was always on in at least three rooms of the house so you could hear it in every other room. I never questioned it being on all the time. If it was off when I came into the house I would go over to the little radio in the kitchen and turn it on. The house just didn't seem right if it was off. I would dance and pretend I was a ballerina when no one was watching (which I'm sure they were). I also loved to lay on the couch and just listen to the music flow out of the radio.

G.G. taught me the love of hearing a live symphony. She was a donor to the North Carolina Symphony and would attend as many of their concerts as she could. This love also transferred to me. I really like to go hear the symphony on their open rehearsal days. I could sit there for hours and just listen... maybe take a little work so I can try to be a little productive!

She was the only person I knew who listened to this kind of music, so I called it "G.G. Music." I didn't realize until later in my childhood (elementary school) that it actually had a name -- classical music. The love of this music transferred to me through ballet and tap and eventually playing the violin. Music is such a big part of me.

When G.G. had to move from her house to assisted living I refused to go inside the house. I sat in the car and watched people move her things out, tossing things in the dumpster or into a moving van. That house held so many memories and I didn't want to see it empty and destroy the happy images.

I used to go visit G.G. every Sunday after church to take her a biscuit and talk with her. Sunday's were our time to visit. Towards the end of her life I remember walking into her room and realizing her classical music wasn't on. I tried to cheer her up and turn the music on when I heard her say softly, "Off." I turned it off and went closer to hear what she had to say. I was very confused as to why she didn't want it on so I questioned her. I will never forget the sadness in her eyes were and the way her little wrinkled face frowned. G.G. told me that she didn't like to listen to it anymore... it no longer made her happy. I was speechless and changed the subject. When I left her that day I got in my car and fell apart. The music that I had associated my entire life with making my grandmother happy now saddened her. I just couldn't understand... it was almost like the music had died in her. I couldn't listen to it for a while without getting upset.

Sometimes, now, when I am in the car by myself I will turn on the local classical station and listen to the music as I drive. It helps me think of her and how much I still love classical music. I get lost listening to it. I listen to all kinds of music, but no other kind of music can make me feel the way classical does. Classical music makes your imagination come alive. You can make what you want out of the music. It's kind of like reading a book vs. watching the movie. The movie NEVER turns out the way you want it to. The characters aren't the way you imagined them, the lines are worded terribly, and you can't stand the director's way of using his "artistic drive." With classical music, no one is wrong in how they interpret the feeling of the music. You can let it lead you... it sweeps you away.

Classical music transfers me to what feels like another time. It is like breathing art... take the time to sit back and listen every once in a while.