Picking Wildflowers with Granny

In my last blog post, I shared the story of my mother, Ann Hart Hughes Scribner, including some of my memories and a commentary from my father.  The blog post ended with the statement that Mom struggled with dementia or Alzheimer’s for more than a decade at the end of her life.

My father wrote his memories of Mom during their younger years, and I wrote of my memories of our years as a young family.  But during the final chapter of her life, Mom’s grandchildren had a very different type of memory of her, and I want to share that with you as well.   

My daughter, Abby, was the youngest of my parents’ grandchildren.  Both Mom & Dad died in 2006 when Abby was a young teenager.  At some point, while Abby was in high school, she wrote about her grandmother who she knew as her Granny.  With Abby’s permission, I am going to share some of what she wrote in 2008: 

“I was browsing through my bookshelf the other day, sorting through books and trying to make room for new ones.  Not surprisingly, I ended up sitting down and flipping through old books and enjoying the memories of some of my favorite stories.  And then a picture fell out of one of the books.  You know how fun it can be to use a special picture for a bookmark.  And the picture that fell into my lap was, of course, a special photo.  It was a snapshot that someone, probably my dad, took when I was just a toddler, not even two years old.  I was standing in the woods near my grandparent’s house and my grandmother, Granny, was picking wildflowers with me.  We both had wildflowers in our hands and were very intent on our mission.

Granny was a small woman with a large heart.  She was a mother of five and grandmother of eight.  She was a southern lady with soft spoken ways and warm words.  She and my grandfather had a very interesting and happy life together.  They lived a full life, took care of their children, and when the time came, they took care of each other. 

We didn’t get to see my grandparents every day because they lived in a nearby state, but as the years went by we visited more often and made longer visits in the summer.  I am the youngest grandchild, so I don’t remember Granny in her younger years quite the same as my older cousins do, but I knew her the last 15 years of her life – all of those years with Alzheimer’s moving into her life like a slow tide rising steadily.

When I was young I never knew about Alzheimer’s, I just knew that Granny was getting “older” and more feeble physically – unsteady on her feet, slower to talk, forgetful.  Granddaddy started to help her more with things.  Yes, she was getting older, but she still wanted to know about school, visit with me and even listen to me play my violin for her.

I don’t really remember when my parents first told me about Alzheimer’s, but I do remember thinking that it explained a lot about what was happening to Granny.  Knowing allowed me to understand and gave me patience to interact with her without expecting her to respond directly to me.

Granny lived with Alzheimer’s for many years and in the end she could not talk at all, she could not feed herself and could not walk or even sit up on her own.  Questions needed to be yes or no questions and sometimes we would get a head nod in response, other times not.  Granddaddy became her full time caretaker and their life moved into a daily routine.  He got her up each morning and fed her breakfast and by mid-morning a home nurse would arrive and bathe her and get her dressed.  The nurse would bring her to the living room before leaving where Granny had “ownership” of the best end of the sofa.  Granny would be in the middle of the house, listen to the TV (she preferred nature shows) and she could be a part of whatever went on in the house during the day.  We would lay her back on the sofa for naps and then sit her up for lunch and everyone always ate lunch with her in the living room.  Another long nap in the afternoon, dinner, more TV and then off to bed.  And the next day and the next were often more of the same unless there was something special planned.

My grandmother died in 2006 within hours after she was told that Granddaddy had died from heart failure.  She couldn’t talk, but she knew – it was in her eyes.  They’d been together for over 50 years and so they left together.  Maybe they are picking wildflowers together now.”

 – Abigail Jane McCrary, 2008 

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Key individuals:                                                                                                                   

        Ann Hart Hughes Scribner  (1921 – 2006)

        Robert Gordon Scribner  (1923 – 2006)          

– Jane Scribner McCrary

My Loving Mom

My Mom was a soft-spoken southern woman.  Ann Hart Hughes was born in 1921 in South Norfolk, Virginia.  She lived in Virginia until she married my father.

The older of two daughters of Charles Henry Hughes & Nina Cecelia Nash Hughes, Ann had an idyllic, though not wealthy, childhood with her parents in a small home on Decatur Street.  She had one younger sister named Nina Nash Hughes, Aunt Teenie to me, shown in the photo below.

 

Ann was always a good student who loved writing and English grammar.  After high school she went to Mary Washington College in Fredericksburg, Virginia.  Unfortunately, she broke her foot sometime in her freshman year, had to drop out because of it, and never returned to college.  After Ann’s foot healed enough that she could get back to normal life, she found a job and went to work.

Ann lived at home with her parents and worked for the next eight or so years.  She once told me that if she had lived during my generation, she would have loved to have her own apartment, but that just wasn’t done in her time.  So Ann remained at home and saved her money.  She was 29 by the time she married Dad, and was grateful that her parents always made her feel welcome and loved during those years.

In my father’s memoir, Dad wrote about meeting Mom:

“I was the Aviation Supply Officer for my squadron and with that job I had to get the spare parts to keep all the planes flying.  Our source of supply was the Naval Air Station in Norfolk, Virginia; this is where I met Ann Hart Hughes.  She worked in Aviation Supply, and I made a habit of arriving there just about the time she was due for a break so we could have a little time together.  My commanding officer, Col. John L. Smith, found out about all the trips I was making to Norfolk and questioned me about it.  I told him about Ann and a few weeks later he invited me to go along with him and his wife, who knew Ann, to Norfolk – and that really kicked off the love affair.  I knew I had found my soul mate, so in 1948, before being transferred to China, I asked Ann to marry me.  I had leave before shipping to China so I spent some time in Norfolk with Ann and she came with me up to Huntington, Long Island for a few days. “

Ann Hart Hughes and Robert Gordon Scribner married in August of 1949 in Norfolk, Virginia.  They drove to Niagara Falls for their honeymoon, and then back to Edenton, North Carolina to begin their life together.  In Edenton, they purchased a Cape Cod saltbox home in a new subdivision for $6,600.

 

My Dad’s military career had us moving every couple of years.  They went from Edenton, NC to Cherry Point, NC to Pensacola, FL back to Cherry Point to South Laguna, CA to Quantico, VA back to Pensacola, to Albuquerque, NM, and last to Yuma, AZ.  And during that time they welcomed five children into the family – three boys and two girls.  We always knew that we were an unusual tribe with all seven members of our family born in a different state.  My parents’ final move was when Dad retired from military service and our family settled in Alto, NM in 1963.

For the next 43 years my parents lived in Alto, first on the ranch which was the topic of the blog post Aviator to Rancher that I posted a few weeks ago.  During their later years, my parents sold most of the ranch property, retaining 10 acres on which they built their retirement home.  My parents were true partners in life, always making joint decisions and caring for each other along the way.

 

I started this blog with the statement that “My Mom was a soft-spoken southern woman” – and she was.  With five children you would think that things would get out of control at times, but my Mom never yelled at us or seemed to get angry.  She would simply give us a “look”, make a calm statement about what needed to change, or send us to our room – and that took care of it.  Mom had a gentle southern accent which I was never aware of until someone would mention it.  To me, she just sounded like my Mom.

A few of my fondest memories of my mother were from trips we took together.  One such trip was when I was about 25 years old and suddenly cast adrift after the sudden death of my first husband.  Both of my parents understood that I needed time to reset and make a new course.  My mom suggested a trip with her to Virginia and North Carolina to visit some of her extended family.  She hadn’t been back east in quite some time and decided that it would be nice for me to get to know more of her side of the family.  It was a wonderful distraction from my sadness, a really good time with my Mom, and the beginning of my lifelong interest in discovering our unique family histories.

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Key individuals:

        Ann Hart Hughes Scribner  (1921 – 2006)

        Robert Gordon Scribner  (1923 – 2006)          

Notes:

Ann struggled with dementia or Alzheimer’s for more than the last decade of her life but remained at home during all those years under Bob’s loving care.

 – Jane Scribner McCrary