Friday, October 11, 2013

Don't You Be Looking at Me Like That



Dear Boo and Bubble,

I’ve always believed that of all the senses available to us, the most important is a sense of humor.  It allows us to navigate every type of situation, particularly stressful ones.  The old saying goes (with apologies to Mary Michaels on the grammar) - “anything you can laugh at, you’re bigger than.” Your great, great, great grandmother Mamie Bryant lived such a creed.  I imagine the ability to find light-hearted perspective was essential for a widow left at age 40 with eight children to raise.

Granny Bryant’s health was never particularly good.  She suffered diabetes and in 1936, at the age of 72, had to have a kidney removed.  Nothing was more devastating to her, though, than the loss of her left eye to glaucoma.  Not only did she have to adjust to seeing with one eye, her sense of pride and appearance suffered because she had to wear a patch.

Her daughter Mittie and your great granddaddy Schaefer tried to persuade her to consider a glass eye.  At first, the thought repulsed her and she would have nothing to do with it.  Finally, they convinced her to at least go to the doctor and discuss an artificial eye with him.  She remained skeptical, but acquiesced. 

The doctor matched her good eye perfectly with a glass one.  He slipped it into the vacant socket and told her to look in the mirror.  She stared at her reflection, mesmerized.  From that day on, she was never without one.  Granny’s glass eye created quite a few comical moments in our family folklore, but she always enjoyed the joke as much as anyone, even when she might be the butt of it.

Glass eyes were just that….glass.  And occasionally, Granny would lose grip of hers and it would shatter on the floor. 

“Pst, pst…” she whispered clandestinely for your great, great Aunt Katherine, who was living with Granny at the time. “Here, Katherine.  Take this $10 and these broken pieces of my old eye and go down to the doctor’s office and find a match for me.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Katherine replied.

“Oh, and don’t say a word to anybody about this.  It’s just between you and me.”

“Okay,”

Katherine shuddered when she walked up to the tray of eyes, all glaring up at her like a big old fly’s head.  Finally she found the right one.  She paid the doctor and home she came, sneaking in with Granny’s eye, no one the wiser.

Granny always took her eye out at night and soaked it in a glass of water.  One weekend, her step-grandson William Kendrick came to visit.  In the middle of the night, he awoke and went into the bathroom for some water.  Not wanting to disturb anybody, he decided to leave off the light.  He tapped around the sink until he felt a glass and turned on the faucet to pour in some water.  After a couple of gulps, Granny’s eye rolled into his mouth.  He didn’t swallow it, but spit it into the sink where fortunately, it neither broke nor disappeared down the drain.

One Saturday morning, Granny was still in bed when she heard a knock on the back door.  She realized that it was probably the little black boy who came through the neighborhood to sell eggs every weekend.  She needed eggs.  Quickly, she got out of bed, grabbed her robe and went into the bathroom to retrieve her eye out of the water glass.  Granny popped the eye in the socket and hastened downstairs.

“I’m coming….hold on….don’t go anywhere,” she admonished him urgently.

She came to the back door and flung it open, smiling with familiarity.

The little boy gawked back at her in utter terror.  His eyes grew wide and his mouth gaped open.  He threw his entire carton of eggs high over his head and they crashed to the ground splattering all over.  The little waif scampered away as fast as his short legs could go.

Granny stood there stunned, not knowing what had just happened….until she went into the kitchen and caught sight of herself in a mirror.  In her haste, she had put her eye in backwards!   

She burst into such laughter, she could hardly stop. 

“Guess I’m going to have to find a new source for eggs.  I reckon I’ll never see the likes of him again.” 

No comments:

Post a Comment