And now, I would like to present my favorite redneck Christmas carol:
Jingle bells, Batman smells,
Granny got a gun,
shot me in the underwear
and taught me how to run.
On Thanksgiving evening, I got to see this Christmas carol come to life. Sort of.
I was fortunate enough to spend the few days around Thanksgiving with my grandmother in the small Alabama farming community she's lived in her entire life. She is the embodiment of both the stereotypical grandmother and the old-fashioned, hard-working southern woman. Her demeanor is as sweet, accepting, and welcoming as you can possibly imagine. She can cook the world's finest chefs under the table. She will do anything her grandchildren want. She can kill, dress, and cook any animal you can think of. She will welcome anyone who comes in her front door as family. She's a southern Baptist that didn't step foot inside a liquor store until the ripe old age of 82. She kicks ass. And on Thanksgiving night, she inadvertently reminded us of that.
A few family members and I were sitting in the living room, still in a food coma from our feast. My grandmother had wandered off to the back of her house with her trusty walker. Minutes later, she appeared at the kitchen door - slowly maneuvering her walker with her right hand, and with her left.... gripping a 12-gauge single-barrel shotgun.
Every jaw in the room dropped. My grandmother looked confused at our reaction. What was the big deal? Had we never seen a walker-reliant 89-year old woman wielding a shotgun?
My aunts and I came out of our shocked state and jumped up to help her. If you've never held a shotgun before, they are quite heavy. We got it out of her hands so that she could properly handle her walker and asked her what on earth she was doing teetering into the kitchen with a shotgun. She just chuckled at us. The shotgun had belonged to my grandfather, and she was giving it to one of my aunts. She saw no reason to ask for help with it since she was perfectly capable of getting it out herself.
The image of my grandmother appearing in the doorway with a walker and a shotgun is one I will never, ever forget. For Christmas, I'm going to teach her that Christmas carol and hope she doesn't get any ideas of going one step further and teaching someone how to run. I'm also going to install a gun rack on the front of her walker.
Jingle bells, Batman smells,
Granny got a gun,
shot me in the underwear
and taught me how to run.
On Thanksgiving evening, I got to see this Christmas carol come to life. Sort of.
I was fortunate enough to spend the few days around Thanksgiving with my grandmother in the small Alabama farming community she's lived in her entire life. She is the embodiment of both the stereotypical grandmother and the old-fashioned, hard-working southern woman. Her demeanor is as sweet, accepting, and welcoming as you can possibly imagine. She can cook the world's finest chefs under the table. She will do anything her grandchildren want. She can kill, dress, and cook any animal you can think of. She will welcome anyone who comes in her front door as family. She's a southern Baptist that didn't step foot inside a liquor store until the ripe old age of 82. She kicks ass. And on Thanksgiving night, she inadvertently reminded us of that.
A few family members and I were sitting in the living room, still in a food coma from our feast. My grandmother had wandered off to the back of her house with her trusty walker. Minutes later, she appeared at the kitchen door - slowly maneuvering her walker with her right hand, and with her left.... gripping a 12-gauge single-barrel shotgun.
Every jaw in the room dropped. My grandmother looked confused at our reaction. What was the big deal? Had we never seen a walker-reliant 89-year old woman wielding a shotgun?
My aunts and I came out of our shocked state and jumped up to help her. If you've never held a shotgun before, they are quite heavy. We got it out of her hands so that she could properly handle her walker and asked her what on earth she was doing teetering into the kitchen with a shotgun. She just chuckled at us. The shotgun had belonged to my grandfather, and she was giving it to one of my aunts. She saw no reason to ask for help with it since she was perfectly capable of getting it out herself.
The image of my grandmother appearing in the doorway with a walker and a shotgun is one I will never, ever forget. For Christmas, I'm going to teach her that Christmas carol and hope she doesn't get any ideas of going one step further and teaching someone how to run. I'm also going to install a gun rack on the front of her walker.
Oh to have been there to see that! I spoke w/your Granny (my Aunt Sue) just the other evening and she told me about it. She didn't think twice as to what she was doing but I guess the looks on all of your faces was priceless. Love my Aunt Sue w/all of my heart...even if she came to the door loaded for bear.
ReplyDeleteLoving that mental image. For some reason, she has a Rambo headband on in my mind, too.
ReplyDeleteTammy - it was quite the visual! Aaron - ha! She didn't have a Rambo headband, but it would have been entirely appropriate.
ReplyDeleteWouldn't that make her Grambo?
ReplyDeleteHa! Well, I suppose it would! I like it.
ReplyDelete