Bessie That's my grandmother Elizabeth (Bessie), photographed while on a visit to California just before her marriage to Jack McCarty in 1914. I remember Bessie waving and smiling from her doorway as our Oldsmobile pulled up in front of their big white house. She was a perfect grandmother, who knew exactly how to enchant small children. Even her dish cupboards contained doll dishes for tea parties under the pear trees, and her dresser drawers contained scarves and button boxes and apple pomander balls.The happiest place in the world was the east bedroom up under the eaves of their house, where the bed was made with old quilts, and where a window looked out onto the village street far below, framing the First Methodist Church on the corner. It was magical at Christmas to go early to bed and watch the Methodists arriving for their Christmas Eve service; we children could even hear their singing behind the glowing stained-glass windows. Bessie played the piano, taught piano lessons, wrote news stories for the Chickasha weekly newspaper, and painted in oils. She had lots of books for us to read (I discovered the Nancy Drew mysteries one hot summer in some bookshelves by the old chimney) and canary yellow paper and boxes of crayons for our drawings. In a small, out-of-the-way Oklahoma town, Bessie lived a quietly creative life. She was always smiling, always generous, always gentle. |
