DAY 20: MY GRANDMA
Wednesday, January 20, 2010 at 06:57PM 
I am thinking of my Grandma Mattingly. Today is her birthday. Born in 1912, she would be 98 years old today if still living. The photo is one I took of her in the 1980's. She was on her front porch at Mattingly Funeral Home.
I guess many of us could go on and on about our beloved Grandmothers, so humor me – this is a little long, but I am enjoying remembering her today.
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Grandma’s German parents owned a bakery in Louisville – Fleig’s Bakery. It was located in the “Germantown” section of that city up until the late 1920’s.
So it is no wonder that my grandmother was an expert baker. She always – ALWAYS - had several cakes and pies ready for anyone who came to see her. My favorites were her German Chocolate Cake and her cherry pies---and of course, her famous potato rolls. They were high-rising yeast dinner rolls made with mashed potatoes. Yes, she was an expert baker!
But she was also an accomplished cook. Everything she cooked tasted wonderful, and she had a knack for arranging things on a plate (I am thinking of breakfast at her house now) so that everything looked spectacular! And she could carry on such an interesting conversation as she stood at that stove cooking breakfast that I was always a bit startled when she put my plate before me – how did she do all that with such ease while we were all lost in conversation?
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There was a time in my young life that – despite my being a “night owl” - I would rise early to attend the 6 a.m. Mass with my dad and my grandmother, and afterward linger at Grandma’s for an incredible breakfast.
One of my favorite memories from that time was the morning we were headed to church for an early Mass at St. Francis, but as we approached the intersection in that downtown metropolis, we came upon a traffic jam (yes – in St. Francis!). What in the world?
A train was blocking passage of early church-bound citizens. I remember Daddy getting out of the car and conferring with some of those ahead. Men were gathering to size up the situation. The train had "jumped the tracks". Wow. And it was a long one...couldn’t go around it, for sure.
After the big pow-wow, most all the cars were turning around in the middle of the road and heading back home. I thought we would too, especially because it appeared everyone else had decided to turn back and it seemed to be the agreed upon course of action among the men-folk. This was definitely sizing up to be a great morning! Perfect guilt-free excuse to miss Mass AND have Grandma's breakfast! YESSSSSS! I was pumped, and had bacon and eggs on my mind.
But OH NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! Not us! It was Sunday morning, by gosh, and it would take a whole heck of a lot more than a derailed train to stop our little family unit from mounting the summit to St. Francis of Assisi Church. NO stalled train would come between us and the Holy Eucharist! No way!
We had two choices, and missing Mass wasn’t one of them. For us it was:
- Over the Train
– OR -
2. Under the Train
As the others turned back, we took their spots and crept closer to the train. Finally, we were first in line. We exited our car and walked up to the train.
I remember that Grandma – of course - didn't want to miss Mass, but she was concerned about how we would accomplish this. And I was interested in how my elderly grandmother would maneuver this very unexpected roadblock.
It was decided that Grandma and I would duck and crawl under the train together. So we did, and while it was pretty easy for me, it was not that easy for my Grandma in her dress and hosiery and with her big purse and all.
She and I stood there for a little while on the other side of the tracks and I helped her rearrange her dress and hair as she caught her breath. If you can imagine what "Aunt Bee" from Mayberry might have been like after such a feat, you can imagine my Grandmother at that moment.
Soon we were wondering why Daddy hadn't come across yet. Where WAS he??? We were getting worried.
About that time, the train powered up. It was noisy!!! There was a lot of smoke, and a whistle blew. And that train began MOVING. Where was Daddy???
Just as that train began inching away toward its destination, low and behold there was my Dad!
He had decided not to cross *under* the train with the womenfolk, but instead he swung up into one of the cars, and just as the train began pulling away, he jumped down out of that car! It was like something Superman would do!
My dad didn't roll or anything like they do in the movies when jumping from a moving train because it wasn't moving fast enough to cause a natural roll and Daddy wouldn't have faked a roll. He just jumped, landed, and dusted himself off.
It's hard to describe how scared/then relieved me and Grandma were! First, we had been very frightened he might have been right under the train when it began to move. But we were so relieved to see him! And then we were scared about him jumping from the moving train. My young self certainly experienced a roller coaster of emotion that morning.
Having successfully crossed our unexpected obstacle course, we all walked together to the big sidewalk that used to be at the very front of St. Francis Church and we made our way up that steep incline together.
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It was the most sparsely attended Sunday service I ever saw at St. Francis of Assisi Church.
I feel the few present that particular morning must have had some satisfaction knowing they didn't turn back and that they made the ultimate in the extra effort department to get to Mass.
In retrospect, the struggle to get there was definitely worth even more than having the perfect excuse for missing Mass and getting an early breakfast at Grandmas.
40 years later, I'm glad ours wasn't among the cars that turned back.
It really was a special morning, all the way around.
Happy Birthday, Grandma! I will never forget you.
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