FAMILY
Tough as Nails — but Tender, Too
My Nana was a feminist before speaking truth to power became a thing
My Nana sang like an angel. In the church choir, and in the kitchen, too. And she spent about an equal amount of time in both.
She baked the most divine pies, and played a mean hand of canasta. She also taught her grandbabies how to say the alphabet backward.
Yeah, that’s my one and only party skill. I even exhibited this unusual predilection one year in the high school talent show. Did I win, place or show? Don’t ask. Nana was proud, at least.
My Nana was a church-going, Bible-thumping, hard-core, up-to-four-times-a-week Southern Baptist.
When my Granddaddy moved the fam out west to a small town near Abilene, her teenage son (my Daddy) had to drive 100 miles roundtrip just so he could spend a Saturday evening two-stepping around a dance floor. Wouldn’t want his mother — nor the ladies at church — to find out that he had the makings of a sinner.
No dancing in the Baptist Church. At least not in my Nana’s Baptist Church.
But despite her…
