A Woman of Few Words
© Janice Bumbalough Marler
When I was growing up, and television was a new wave length, we used to go across the street to watch wrestling. Our neighbors had a small black and white t.v. We would eat popcorn and drink gingerale sodas. It wasn’t that my parents didn’t want a television; it just wasn’t in their budget. Later on, when I was a teen, dad would purchase a floor model television. Programs were all in black and white and every thing was censored.
There was a television sitcom called ‘I Remember Momma’. Well, I remember my amazing grandmother. She was born and raised in the beautiful state of Tennessee, USA. She was born during the late eighteen hundreds in Pitt County. After she married my grandfather they moved to Cumberland County Tennessee.
My grandmother wore her long auburn hair braided and rolled into a bun at the back of her head. I loved to watch her pull it over her shoulder and braid it. As far back as I can recall she made an impact on my life. She stood approximately five feet four inches, if I had to make a guess. Her teeth were kept in a jar, in the baker’s cabinet; she didn’t put water over them. She chewed snuff. When I was older she gave me a few of the containers. I believe this was her only transgression. If indeed you can call chewing snuff a transgression. She wore an apron that covered her entire dress, and she wore a bonnet when she went outside to work whether it was in the yard or the garden.
This woman never lost her temper, never used profanity, and never touched a drop of alcohol. She didn’t eat beef, but she would eat chicken. You should have seen her chase those chickens, pick one out of the flock, and wring its neck. It was amazing. Flip, and off came the chickens head. Now I know where the expression “I’ll wring your neck” came from.
She was up around three-thirty every morning, because their day began at four a.m. She fired up the large black wood stove, and then she brewed coffee, baked her fabulous made-from-scratch biscuits, and fried fresh from the pig bacon and fresh from the chicken eggs. The jelly came from the apples and pears found in the field, butter was churned in a cylindrical wood tub that had a wooden cover with a hole in the middle where a long wooden plunger went. She would sit by the kitchen window as she churned. I would catch her staring off into space, and often wondered what she could have been thinking.
Everything was made from scratch. The city was entirely too far away to ‘run to the grocery store’. Their quilts were hand made. Down was used for the pillows. I remember being stuck by the quills when we slept.
My aunts would help her in the garden, and when it came time for canning, everyone pulled their weight. They would sit in a circle, in the yard, and peel the fruit. There was a lot of laughter.
I am reminded of the Proverbs chapter 31. The sayings of King Lemuel as his mother taught him. It’s about the virtuous woman. My grandmother was a virtuous woman much like the woman in that chapter. My grandmother’s price was more precious than rubies.
She brought her food from the fields and the garden. She was up before daybreak to prepare breakfast for her household and she planned in her mind what she would do that day. She was never paid for her work, nor did she buy land. She bartered with the traveling store vendor. A man, driving a wagon full of notions, potions and lotions, came down the mountain so people could shop from his warehouse of products. She was a strong and energetic worker, and a hard worker. She sewed and mended clothes. She never failed to share with others what she had. If someone was in need, she gave.
She saw to it that my aunts, my uncles, and my grandfather wore warm clothing in the winter because they lived on top of the Cumberland Mountain. Winters were cold there. My grandfather sold stock at the stock market in Crossville. He was a good provider and well known in Crossville for his honesty.
I don’t recall her making clothing to sale to merchants. She was definitely clothed with strength and dignity and she laughed a lot. She was a quiet woman, a woman of few words. She was kind and full of common sense. She carefully watched over her children and she grieved when my oldest uncle fought in WWII. He was injured and sent back home.
She was not a beauty queen; her beauty came from deep inside of her. She was a Christian woman. I know she was a wondrous influence on my life without my realizing it. This is why I write about my grandmother and give her the praise she so rightly deserves.
All of her children praised her and none had an evil word to say against her. She surpassed many women of her day, and this day.