Frances Curry Vaughn — In Memory

My grandmother, Frances Curry Vaughn, passed away peacefully this morning under the loving, watchful care of her daughter, Bev Vaughn. Greatmom (as we called her — “She’s not grand; she’s great.”) was the quintessential southern belle of a grandmother. Elegant, loving, and unwaveringly supportive, her love was felt the moment you walked in the side door. She made sure you knew there was an ice cold IBC root beer and a bag of her famous pretzels ready at a moment’s notice. Boxes of these pretzels would arrive at my college in gallon ziplock bags; friend would tear into them in the middle of the quad, not fifty yards from our door but still too far to hold out any longer. Her pickles — well, her pickles were the condiments of legends. I won’t tell you the recipe but I’ll never forget the long afternoon I spent stirring a great, big vat in my family’s kitchen with Rachel, Miles, and Amanda. Greatmom was a great listener even though — or perhaps, because — she was almost entirely deaf. She knew how to tell a good joke, had a beautiful, light laugh for a good story, and gave you a reassuring pat on the leg when your story sucked (as mine frequently did). Yes, the world probably has a healthier heart today because she’s no longer pacing the kitchen. But my family has a heavier heart, because today, there are no more pats on the leg. There are no more back scratches and sugar cookies. There’s just love and a memory, and a heart that’s filled with both. I’ll miss you, Greatmom. Today, Heaven has one more beautiful angel.