Lessons from My Matriarchs

As you'll see, I started writing this last year but kept crying and couldn't finish it. I haven't looked at it again until today. I finally finished it but I may add stories about the other women in my life and maybe some photos. The three mentioned below are my direct matrilineal line. 

My great-grandmother passed away Sunday night in her sleep and with her, an era ended. My mom is the new matriarch. I can't go to the funeral so in the memory and in the honor of my matriarchs, I decided to write about what I've learned from them.

Ora Evelynne Dick Brewer (0ct. 16, 1919-Nov. 14, 2011) "Granny Brewer"
Life was never easy for Ora. Her father was a man addicted to both alcohol and gambling. Her older brother ended up the same way. Her mother, Nora, was a beautiful 1/2 Lakota woman who was committed to an insane asylum when Ora was a child for reasons we don't know. Nora was dead before the age of 30, if my memory serves me correctly. Ora had every pretty thing she owned gambled away, including her porcelain dolls. What childhood she had was gone by the time she was 15 when she married my great-grandfather (Charlie), 12 years her senior. Charlie was a tall, dark, and handsome type with a wild side. He was over 6 feet tall with a strong, tanned Cherokee face, striking blue eyes, and thick blond hair. He married Ora cause she was the prettiest girl he had ever seen and she made the best pies. I can understand what they saw in each other. She was young and pretty, he was taking her away from her dad. She was pregnant by the time she was 16, unbeknownst to her, with fraternal twins. Early on she miscarried one twin and just thought she wasn't pregnant anymore. She didn't understand what happened until she kept growing and realized she was still pregnant. She gave birth to my great-aunt Sandra and gave birth to my grandmother, Joe-Ann, two years later. Ora worked at a shirt factory for 30 years, she sold Avon, she kept up her home, raised two daughters, and dealt with her husband. She loved him fiercely and he was never an easy man to love.
Ora is one of the most complex people in my family. She was quiet and worked very hard but she was so very fragile. I always felt like her lack of childhood impacted her the most. After she ended up in a rest home, she started to paint beautiful landscapes. It was a skill no one knew she had. She told my mom, I think, that she used to paint as a little girl in school.
My Granny Brewer taught me to embrace. Embrace my childhood memories, embrace my independence, embrace my mom. Embrace the best things because they aren't always meant to last.

Joe Ann Brewer Staggs (February ,1938 - April 1, 2001) "Mama Joe"
My grandmother was everything. That is the simplest way to state it. She never had it easy but she fought. Charlie would come home drunk when Joe Ann was a teen and she got really tired of it. One night, after he passed out in the living room, she dragged him outside by his feet through the house, down the stairs, and into the outhouse. The dragging and banging around of his head apparently roused him from his stupor long enough for her to tell him, "You belong out here with the shit." Charlie didn't come home home drunk again. Joe Ann was tall and athletic with black hair and pretty green eyes. At the age of 20, she married one of the most amazing men in the world, Bobby. He was her balance. She had a fiery temper, he never raised his voice. She wasn't a morning person, he woke up singing to her. They did everything together and loved each other intensely. Joe Ann worked hard and could do anything with her hands. She could fix your hair, sew your clothes, cook you the most amazing food, and wrap you up in one of her hand sewn quilts and give you a bear hug that would make your ribs crack. She could also hunt, play softball, and keep her three rowdy sons in line. She helped her husband fight when he was diagnosed with cancer. She kept fighting until his last breath. She was never the same after that, but she kept fighting, and working, and loving. When she died, a part of us all died. Sometimes when I think about it, I can't catch my breath.
From Mama Joe I learned to always keep fighting and keep loving. And to never do anything half way.

Sheree Sue Staggs Bland
Sheree got the best from Joe Ann and Bobby. She fights just like Joe Ann but she smiles and sings badly just like Bobby. Looking at her though, you wouldn't ever guess she came from them. She has reddish-brown hair, freckles, and Charlie's piercing blue eyes. Apparently the Native American traits stopped with her parents. Sheree had a laid back attitude but she stands up for herself and her family with Joe Ann's intensity. She has an infectious laugh and a sweet voice. People tell me I sound like her. I tell them that I'm not sweet enough to sound like my mom. Her and my Dad, Jimmy, have the best relationship ever. They, like Joe Ann and Bobby, balance each other out. Sheree can talk to anyone like they are an old friend. Jimmy is more shy around people he doesn't know. Jimmy can get worked up and Sheree can calm him down. She knows something is wrong before I answer her phone call. Even though she wasn't with me when I fractured my skull, she knew something bad had happened and rushed home. She knows what to say and when not to say a word. She gave my husband something he never had, a true mother. She knew before I did that I needed to marry a country boy. She taught me to be brave and physically pushed me in Sam's direction the day I met him. She knows me better than I do. Being away from her and my dad, I crave their hugs. I miss seeing the way my mom's eyes light up when she smiles. She talks with her hands and has the most infectious laugh. My mom has taught me so much that it is hard to verbalize. I know that whatever parts of me that are good, it's because of her. If I'm a good wife, it's because of her. If I am a good mother in the future, it's because of her.

My matriarchs have shown me so many lessons in loving and living. I owe so much to them and to the women that came before them. I hope to pass down to the future generations what has been given so generously and graciously to me. I love you, Granny Brewer. I love you, Mama Joe. I love you, Mom, so very much!