Sally Mae

Mamaw Sally was using a walker by the time I came into the world. She maneuvered that thing in a way that let you know she was comin'.

I frequented Sally's home with my grandmother; as my grandmother was Sally's first born, and my home was with her. Never went into mamaw's house when I didn't smell collard greens and pinto beans cooking on the stove. And she always had wonderful home baked bread at suppertime.

Now Sally didn't take any mouthing. Not even from her husband, Ras. When she had listened to all she could stand of what he was saying on any given day, she would perk up and with a stern look from her aged blue eyes, command, "You kiss my ass!"

Mamaw had a parakeet. You could never guess in a million years his name. Pete was a rowdy sucker. Sally'd let him out of his cage every damn time I was there. I spent a lot of time ducking as he circled rooms and flew towards my head. Scared the shit outta' me, that bird!

My nanny used to tell me mamaw rung chickens' necks in the back of her house on the day she was going to fix fried chicken for supper. I could imagine her doing that. But, I couldn't understand the contrast between her sweet look and her actions. I never wanted to eat fried chicken at Sally's house. Just couldn't rightfully eat that chicken thinking of what she'd done to the poor fella' beforehand.

My mother has Sally's smile. You couldn't see a prettier smile if you searched the world over. But, it's a dangerous smile. The kind of smile that can welcome a soul close, and then smack the fire out of him once he got in reachin' distance. On the other hand, if you happened to be on her good side, Sally would pull you close and squeeze you tight, then look up at you and smile that pretty smile. Sally usually looked up at all of us because whenever she wasn't cooking, she sat on her couch, watching her "stories" and dipping snuff. Nasty shit! How could a beautiful woman with gorgeous blue eyes, and a smile you couldn't see if you searched the world over, put that nasty mess in her mouth!

Mamaw read quite a bit. I think mostly her religious books and Harlequins. You might imagine how the two could fit together in more ways than not. She planted flowers on the whole hillside where she lived when I was young. She, or Rasmas, painted old tires white, and planted those flowers within the parameters of the tires. A soul could see those flowers encircled in those white tires from the main road clear across the bridge from her house on the hill. The tires were funny looking from the road; but once you got up to Sally's house, the flowers and their fragrance made you forget how silly those white tires looked.

Mamaw Sally was part Cherokee Indian. She had beautiful high cheek bones and strong jaws. Her hair was white as snow. She didn't talk much about her heritage. But then again, I didn't ask many questions. Of course, she grew up in depressed times. She and papaw Rasmas met one another while they were both walking on the railroad tracks in Max Meadows, Virginia; both on their way to a Sadie Hawkins dance. Mamaw told she grabbed papaw right out of the arms of another girl. Right there on those railroad tracks. She told that she saw papaw Ras and said, "He's mine."

Mamaw Sally and Rasmas migrated over to West Virginia, and settled in McDowell county. Papaw worked the mines for a while and then became an insurance salesman. Sally and Rasmas raised seven children, and lived in McDowell county for the rest of their lives.

I live very near those railroad tracks in Max Meadows where Sally and Ras first met. And, I drive across them every day.

The most sadness I feel looking back, was that I was too young to realize I would want to know more about Sally someday...