Today would have been my grandmother’s 113th birthday! It seems so strange to think of her in terms of that age, she was always so timeless.
If you Follow me, you know I am always quoting my Grammie – her expressions, her quirky sayings and her comedic sense of delivery, has always inspired and delighted me.
Since I always think of March 6th as “Grammie Day”, I thought it a perfect time to write a short story about this tremendous woman whose impact on my life still lingers to this day.
Grammie was born in Boston in 1911, the first-born child to my musically notable grandfather, CWO William C. White and his bride, Mary. My grandfather’s military career as a musician-soldier began in 1907 as the leader of the 10th Artillery Band. During that time, he also attended the New England Conservatory of Music and upon graduation, the family was stationed at Governor’s Island in NY where Grandpa White became the principal of the Army Music School, conducting with the likes of John Philip Sousa and composing his many military marches.
Imagine my Grammie at age 8, clutching the hand of her mother as her father proudly led his 75-piece band down the New York City parade route along Broadway welcoming home General John J. Pershing from Europe. She often remarked it was a highlight of her childhood.
As was the custom in days of yore, my Grammie married young. In 1928, her father’s duty station had him moving the family to Hawaií to lead the 321st Army Band, so at age 17, Grammie elected to marry her handsome musician suitor, James Clinton Hebb and begin a family which they raised in Washington DC. My mother was born a mere 12 months later, her brother (their final issue) was born 11 months after that!
Grammie regaled us kids with stories of the pursuits she and granddaddy had led. She told us she was a professional dancer performing as a Roaring 20’s flapper; she’d quip her father’s musical rhythm went to her feet! She told us of what life was like raising two toddlers during the Great Depression in 1929. She told us how she was deft with a needle and learned to become a Tailor. Using that talent, she made all my mother’s clothes to which Mom became known by her Senior Superlative, Best Dressed. In the 1950’s, Grammie invested in and ran a restaurant in the Union Market District of DC, Hendrick’s Steak House, where she greeted handsome guests draped in ermine and mink wraps into the swanky yet-informal gathering place. She even enlisted my handsome father to bartend on the busiest nights.
Grammie was my mother’s life long best friend. Devoted, loyal with an intensely loving heart, she tended to all five of us grandchildren as if each one of us was a prize. We all grew into being ‘successfuls’ in life! I am sure that most of that came from Grammie’s innate nurturing.
Grammie’s departure from this earth was unfair. I am not ashamed to state this. My beloved father left this earth on December 9, 1984, Grammie followed him a mere seven months later leaving a hole in my poor mother’s heart as wide as the Grand Canyon. Imagine, losing your spouse after a successful and loving 35-year long marriage and months later losing your other life-long best friend, your devoted fun-loving mother. It is no wonder that after those two crushing losses, my own mother clung to me like a job, and no wonder I have become the woman I am as a result of these two extraordinary, impressive women.
Grammie, a day does not go by where I do not think of you or remember one of your “Grammie-isms”. I always laugh at the sight of a blue bird landing on a tree or a gate knowing it is you making your glorious presence known to me. Happy birthday, Bebe, I love you so much, you were one grande dame!