Christine Pauls
Clara Jane Pauls , formerly Anderson , was born June 10 , 1899 . She was a petite woman but exuded black pride , strength , and courage when it came to keeping her family together . Her grandchildren were plentiful ; however , she managed to spread her love to all of us .
Every other Saturday , she ’ d go to a hairdresser two blocks from where we lived . My aunt would send me down to meet her so we could walk back to the house . She ’ d visit with us before she made her way back home . When I came into the small establishment , she ’ d say , “ This here ’ s my baby granddaughter . Ain ’ t she pretty ? I bet y ’ all don ’ t know how many grandchildren I have ?” The conversation would start , and my grandmother would brag about all her babies , outtalking the other ladies .
Oh , the hair ! She ’ d get what was called a blue rinse . When that press and curl was finished , the electric blue illuminated through her silver hair like the sun . Come Sunday , she was ready , adorned in her white uniform , standing at her usher post inside the sanctuary of Eighth Street Baptist Church .
One of her quirks was pennies . She saved them in jars all the time . When I visited ; my assignment was to count and coin wrap the mounds based on how many wrappers she had at the time . I never thought much about why she saved them back then . It didn ’ t matter because I ’ d reap the benefits of my labor when she bestowed one hundred of those copper coins upon me .
Although my aunt monitored my spending of , like giving me five coins over the weekends , I could go to the corner store and buy heaps of sweet treats to share with my two best friends , Glenda and Margo . We ’ d skip on down to Boobie ’ s ( yes , that was the name of the corner store ) with our pennies , discussing who ’ d buy what . When we entered , Mr . Boobie , a towering dark-skinned old man , frowned , standing behind the counter , impatiently waiting for us to make our selections . He ’ d finally scare us by yelling , “ What y ’ all want , now ?!” We ’ d quickly make our purchases , leave and head straight to the park across the street to trade what we bought with each other , so we ’ d all have the same kind of treats .
I was carrying my second daughter , Stephanieand my grandmother told me that she didn ’ t believe she ’ d be around to see this great-grandchild born . How could she know that ? But she was right . My daughter made her entry into this world June 9th , 1980 ; one day before my grandmother ’ s eighty-first birthday and three months after her death .
I miss her warmth and kindness . I miss her voice which was soft and sweet . I save pennies , too ! I throw them into a large plastic cup that I keep in my bedroom . Every time I throw the coins in and wrap them when it gets full , I think of my grandmother . I know now why she saved them . I ’ ve had many occasions in my lifetime when they came in handy .
Happy Mother ’ s Day Grandmother Clara ! My love for you is eternal .
Christine Pauls a native of Wilmington , Delaware is the author of To Begin Again , Belinda ’ s Song and One Good Thing , her newest release . She penned her first novel in 2012 . The mother of two and grandmother of three is an accountant by day in the banking industry .
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