Riding Shotgun with Mimi: A Tribute to my Great-Grandmother

My great-grandmother was a building contractor, long before that was a fashionable occupation for women.  When I stayed with her I got to tag along to job sites and observe.

We’d travel in Mimi’s Mercury, which was kept in tip-top shape by the Esso mechanic at the end of her street.  (I can’t remember his name now, but Mimi always did.) 

Her car didn’t have seat belts, so I spent most of the ride with her outstretched arm pinning me to the seat.  “Hurry up!  Hurry up!” I always demanded, excited about seeing workers crawling like ants all over a home being built.  “In a minute, in a minute, Princess!” was always her reply.

Mimi liked to line up the long Mercury with the white lines in the road.  As in, she straddled them.  Riding with her was always an adventure.

Arriving at a job site, Mimi would exit the Merc gingerly in her printed flower dress, hose with garters, and heels.  She also wore a corset, which fascinated me.

With Southern Belle grace she would walk the site, greeting all the workers and calling them by name.  Then she would make a second round, this time carefully appraising their work.  She would bat her large and beautiful eyes and point out that the framing looked “a bit crooked here,” and: “What about that trim over there—it isn’t quite square now, is it?”

And other things looked “quite lovely” and “just right.”

Then we’d be off to Goldsmith’s to buy a few things for the house, or a gift for a friend.  And back home to Mimi and Popie’s.

Popie was a stay-at-home accountant who didn’t drive.  (He had obviously been terrified by Mimi’s lane-straddling and had completely given up the idea of being on the road.)

But he delighted me because he liked to play games and would tell me the funniest stories.

Things were different here than at home.  We ate ice cream with ginger ale poured on top right before bedtime, and Mimi and Popie fell asleep in their chairs watching Lawrence Welk or Johnny Carson.

I slept in “The Green Room” on a pull-out bed that weighed a ton, and drifted off listening to trains rumble by.

In the morning after Mimi dressed up, we’d have a big cooked breakfast—not cereal like we had at our house.  Mimi made the most amazing biscuits from something called scratch.  I remember her calling my Mom once to ask if I could have some of her prune juice because I was begging for it.  (I got some, too!)

Before I finished high school, Mimi died with grace--just as she had lived--and our family moved in with Popie.  And that great-grandmotherly part of my world ended.

But to this day I grin whenever I pass a busy construction site, thinking of Mimi rambling around in there working her magic.

Mimi:  This blog’s for you!  Happy Birthday!  I’m proud to be named after you, Mary Martisha Clark Quarles.  And someday I'm gonna have a big honkin' Mercury!

I hope you’ll share some favorite memories of your own great-grandparents.  I’d love to read them.

Marianne M. Smith
Writer At The Ranch
Making You Look Brilliant One Word At A Time
http://writerattheranch.com
wordsmith@writerattheranch.com