Grandma Pauline

My grandma Pauline is a Badass.  Yes, that is a crude term, especially for your grandma, but I think it can also be a virtue.  Badass isn’t just a swear word to describe someone that you don’t want to pick a fight with, although you do not want to pick a fight with Grandma Pauline.  No sir you would not.  In her case what I mean by Badass is that she has been put through the ringer by her parents working on a farm, her husband, her kids, and her grandkids.  However, she is the steadfast, unshakeable, cornerstone of our family.  No one has taught me more about unconditional love than her. 

Grandma Pauline’s mother was born in a no kidding covered wagon in a wagon train on the trail to the Wild West.  I’m pretty sure you’re going to be brought up to be tough with that kind of mother.  When I was a kid, it was Grandma Pauline that taught me how to fish out of my great grandmother’s farm pond.  Not with lures or anything fancy, but with table scraps of bacon, biscuits and hot dogs.  She showed me how to pump water out of the ground, churn butter, shuck corn, and how to sleep under the biggest open window you could find in the summer in an old farmhouse. 

My grandma is the definition of “Old School,” but only the good parts.  She taught me to always follow the Golden Rule in all situations with all people.  Never be a “door mat,” and let people walk on you, but never start a fight.  She taught me to not judge people by their looks or who they sleep with, but how they treat you, and to never judge further than that, because that’s not our job. 

My Grandma Pauline and Grandpa Dwayne lived in the suburbs of St. Louis by the time I came along. They were the first people I knew with a remote control tv and a bumper pool table, which Grandma Pauline taught me to play.  Grandpa worked his butt off and wasn’t home a lot.  When we visited, stayed, and even lived at their house, Grandpa was the fun one.  He was the pull your finger guy, tell a joke, slip some junk food or cash to you grandparent.  Grandma was usually all business and quick with a “Gabe I swear to crap!” and a fly swatter or a wooden spoon when I messed up.

She was also the first to stay up all night with me when I got the stomach flu about 7-8 years old I think, and was throwing up so bad for so long I am still afraid to throw up to this day.  Not a word about being tired or grossed out. She didn’t even blink about me making an awful mess in her meticulously cleaned house.  Just a steady “I love you and this will stop.”  Grandpa got a lot of love for being the fun and funny one, but Grandma was the one that held everything together.

When they were younger my Grandpa was a raging alcoholic that most women would have given up on and not tolerated.  Grandma Pauline I believe scared that man sober and he stayed that way the rest of his life and was able to save many other men through his mentoring and sponsorship in Alcoholics Anonymous.  He got the credit at many AA meetings and events, but Grandma was really the one responsible for that.  He did the work for sure, but without her I am doubtful all of that happens.  She was a stand by your man kind of gal unless the man wasn’t worth standing by.  My grandpa certainly was that once Grandma got a hold of him.

Addiction seems to be a hereditary thing in my family.  Whether it was her own kid or grandkids her door was always open until it was tough love time.  Though they didn’t have much it seems like we’ve all lived with them at one time or another.  You could always be safe with Grandma and Grandpa.  If you messed up and needed to go to jail or rehab she did her best to get you there and was still your grandma when you got out.  There was no coddling about doing wrong.  If you did wrong then you needed to pay for it.  When you’re done paying for it or getting sober Grandma Pauline will be there with open arms and more food than you could eat like nothing ever happened.  She didn’t care what you had said, what your spouse had done and even though she warned you about said spouse, she was there with open arms if you came to her house broken and desperate. 

No matter how ashamed or guilty you may feel you could always count on Grandma Pauline to convince you that everything was going to be alright.  She may yell at you first, but you would no with positive certainty she loved you with everything she had.  Whatever you had done didn’t matter anymore.  My mom and dad married and divorced each other twice.  Grandma Pauline had some fairly strong opinions on that I know, but I never heard them.  That was my mom and dad and regardless of how they treated me or her or each other they were to be respected and they were doing the best they could. 

I lived in Southern California until I was 10 years old.  I went to nine different elementary schools in three different states.  Grandma’s house was always a safe haven even 1800 miles away.  When I was maybe eight or so my parents put me on an airplane by myself to stay with Grandma and Grandpa for the summer.  Probably the greatest summer of all time.  We fished at St. Ferdinand park and fed the ducks almost every day I wasn’t hanging out with my new Missouri best friends she made sure I met on her street; Mark, Seth, and Britt.  It seemed so weird to me how they knew all their neighbors and their kids. 

It was the first place I could ever jump on a bike with my buddies from sun up to sun down.  You did not do that in Long Beach, CA.  Although you could walk to the beach every day.  You just may occasionally run into stuff you didn’t want to once in awhile.  When I wasn’t hanging out with my new buddies, Grandma Pauline would take me out to the country in Belle and Bland MO.  The middle of the middle of nowhere.  She’d introduce me to my “kin” out there and I was absolutely fascinated by farms and animals.  Pig roasts, corn roasts, farmers really like to roast things.  When Grandpa could come along it was tractor pulls, backyard rodeos, and float trips. And no matter what town we were in there was BINGO. It was like being on a different planet. 

My parents obviously struggled quite a bit and not long after that summer visit we all moved into their house.  I was pretty excited.  I already had friends there and a million things to do.  And my parents were not allowed to fight in front of us.  Not that they did a lot of that anyway, but you didn’t fight in front of Grandma Pauline or you fought Grandma Pauline.  Again no safer place to be on earth wherever she was.

The very best thing about being around Grandma Pauline is making her laugh.  My younger cousins were way better at it than me pulling non stop pranks on her or making up stories, she’d get fake mad and then laugh so hard everyone else in the room had to laugh too.  My gosh that’s the best feeling.  When I would bring my kids to her house and watch them make her laugh was even better.  You could watch and feel the love for them come off of her. 

Grandma Pauline loved to give gifts even when our parents would tell her not to. (Good luck telling her not to do something she wanted to do) The best gift other than all those life lessons, fond memories, and toys was that she gave me is my mom.  My mom who has all the best qualities of Grandma Pauline.  The sweetest most forgiving person you could ever meet.  When she has nothing will still give you everything.  Like her, the door is always open and ready with an “I love you” and “it’s going to be alright” no matter what. Thank you so much for that Grandma. 

She also gave me my Aunt Sonia and my late Uncle Kirk.  You could not ask to be the nephew of two cooler more loving people.  They love with their whole beings.  Always another great escape and great for laughs and doing crazy things. 

I am saying all this because Grandma Pauline went on hospice this week.  Me, Liz, and the boys went to see her at her house.  Where an 80 lb shell of my Grandma laid miserable on her couch.  I hadn’t seen her in person since she had broken her hip several weeks ago. Shame on me.  I hugged her tiny frame and she said, “Well Gabe I’ve really done it this time, but I am ready to go.” She said I love you and then asked me if I was hungry and told the boys there was soda in the fridge.

She was in and out of consciousness but talked as much as she could.  I still cannot believe that was her laying there until she’d argue with my mom and Aunt Sonia, then oh yeah that’s her.  Still my heart is broken for me selfishly, but also for the rest of the Hicks clan losing its bedrock and North Star which are probably more eloquent descriptions of her than Badass.  She is our consoler, our comfort, and our tradition.  I feel like a plain ass for going on vacation in a couple days while she’s on hospice.  She told mom and Aunt Sonia under no circumstances do we stay home for her.  You could not be more Badass than that. 

Grandma Pauline, I hope my mom or Sonia can read this to you.  This was maybe a lot of words to some people, but they just barely touch the surface of what you meant to me. I pray you will be as comfortable as possible and feel how much you are loved from near and far.  I love you so much more than these feeble words can say. So much good in your kids and their kids and our kids is from you and what you’ve shown us in how you lived, worked, and loved.

She’s so selfless I couldn’t even find a picture of her and/or me by herself.