I was blessed to know all four of my grandparents, and at the time of my birth, I had five living great-grandparents – all four great-grandmothers and one great-grandfather. Four of these were dead by the time I was nine, so my memories of them range from non-existent to quite limited. But I was twenty-eight when the remaining one – my Great-Grandmother Mamie Yates – died, so I had more of an opportunity to know, appreciate, and love her. Today marks the 125th anniversary of her birth on May 12, 1900, and she is on my mind.

Grandma Yates lived in a small house within sight of my paternal grandparents’ home – separated only by a short, dirt road walk – and often times, when I visited them, I visited her as well. She always sat in a chair by her front door, so in warm weather, when her door was open, even on occasions when I didn’t stop to see her, I would wave in hopes she could see me as I drove by.

Most of the memories I have of Grandma Yates have her sitting in her chair (surrounded by family photos and knick-knacks gifted to her through the decades by a slew of grandchildren and great-grandchildren), knitting or crocheting something, and dipping snuff. Small in stature, she wore glasses, kept her hair in a bun, and always donned a dress, usually overlaid with an apron. She was quiet and calm and good-humored. I can still see her closed-mouth grin and the twinkle in her eyes, and I can hear her soft chuckle.

I loved to pick her brain about her life and our family’s history, and I think this explained the bond that formed between us. When she died in 1993, the full impact of her passing didn’t hit me until I was leaving her graveside and broke down in tears. She was my great-grandma, but we were also friends and kindred spirits when it came to talking about times past. I enjoyed her company, and I knew how badly I would miss our times together.

Thirty-five years ago, I wrote a biographical poem about her, based on the stories she told me, and I presented it to her on May 12, 1990 for her 90th birthday. Three years later, I read it aloud at her funeral. Today, I thought I would share it publicly and wish Grandma Yates a happy heavenly birthday. 

Ninety years ago today

Grandma Callie had a baby

In the springtime month of May

She named her little girl Mamie

Callie lived at home with her mother

Their house was on Isaacs Branch

They share it with several sisters and brothers

With all of their cousins, uncles, and aunts

Then Callie married Grandpa Jerd

And moved down on the river

He promised her that he would try

A better life to give her

Everyone worked extremely hard

Raising crops in the field

Helping out on the Shull family farm

They planted and plowed and tilled

And so the young girl named Mamie Blanche

Continued to flourish and grow

She went to the schoolhouse on Phillips Branch

To learn what she could know

At Henson’s Chapel and Antioch

She went to Sunday School

And heard about the love of God

And learned His Golden Rule

She joined the church at Willowdale

When she was around fifteen

Reverend Sherwood baptized her

In a nearby icy creek

Mamie was often away from home

For several weeks at a time

Working for Milt and Floy Mast

Making their children mind

The Yates men lived on the Walker Place

Grandpa Tom and Fred,

Calvin, Coy, and brother Dave

But the one Mamie loved was Ed

When Ed asked her to be his wife

And Mamie said she was willing

Together they started  brand new life

When they were married at Floyd Billings’

A teenage bride in a dress of blue

And a groom who was quite a bit thinner

She and Ed exchanged I do’s

And went to Mag Ward’s for dinner

So, Mamie set up their hearth and home

And she and Ed lived at Cool Springs

Raising crops like cabbage and beans

And children among other things

Mending and cleaning and churning butter

She kept the household running

Fixing food in time for supper

There wasn’t much time for funning

Twelve babies were born down through the years

Bringing both joy and pain

Five have passed on to Heaven so fair

While seven of them still remain

But in the meantime, she continues to share

With grandchildren far and near

Joy, and love, and motherly care,

Good humor, and sweetness, and cheer

Millions of stitches have been sewn by her hands

Knitting and crocheting treasures

She lovingly handles each colorful strand

Which no fancy price tag could measure

If every bit of her work was unraveled

And laid out in a line

The miles it would stretch could never be traveled

Because it would take too much time

Though Grandma Yates is quiet by nature

And somewhat small in size

You’ll find she has a lot of strength

If you look deep into her eyes

All of the stories those eyes have seen

Probably could never be told

But there will be even more to tell

By the time she’s a hundred years old