Up on the Roof

Up on the Roof

‘Mamaw’ might seem like a strange word to some folks, especially those that are not from the American South. However, ‘Mamaw’ was not only a common word to me and my thirteen first cousins, but a precious word attached to and associated with a precious person. Let’s be clear though, the word ‘precious’ may give you the implication that I am referring to someone who is fragile or delicate. This is actually quite opposite of the truth. Precious, in reference to Mamaw, indicates a rare sort of free-spirited, adventurous, fierce woman that is loved by more people than I can possibly count. Sure, my cousins and I looked to Mamaw for love and support, but we also looked to her when we needed someone to raise hell for us. She was our champion. She taught our parents how to be champions for us, and us to be champions for our kids. She taught us how to have fun, embrace our wildness, speak our minds, dance and laugh.

This past Christmas, my mother asked me to write my grandmother’s memoirs. The next time I saw Mamaw I asked her if she was okay with letting me write her stories for her. After some explanation, she agreed and immediately began talking about her sisters and her father growing up in Maryland. Mamaw’s two sisters, Frances and Pete, were her sidekicks when she was young. Partners in crime. I do believe Mamaw may have been the ringleader, but only when she saw fit. One time, Frances and Pete were trying to sneak out of the house with their boyfriends. She didn’t want them to go, so she threatened to tell on them. Mamaw’s father, Aries Cornett (A.C.), was a full-blooded Native American with a temper and a stern hand. In my grandma's stories from childhood, he is a character of mystery that inspired awe and some fear because he was the disciplinarian. In those times it was kick your children's ass first and ask questions later.

On this occasion, Pete and Frances snuck out the window and were running off into the night. Mamaw stripped down naked and climbed out onto the roof of the second story. She screamed like a banshee. She raised so much hell on the roof that Frances and Pete had no choice but to abandon their mission and climb back through the window before A.C. could come out and catch them. Pete and Frances made it back in, but A.C. caught Mamaw out naked on the roof. He said, “What are you doing up there?!” Trying to get out of a beating, Mamaw said, “There was a mouse in the bed!” He yelled back up to her, “I’m going to come and look and if there isn’t a mouse in the bed, I’m going to beat your ass!”

Now, I can imagine the anxiety Mamaw must have felt, waiting on the whipping she knew must be coming from lying about a mouse being in the bed. I imagine she must have been equally as surprised when A.C. turned over the mattress and lo and behold, a family of mice had made their home. Later on, after the dust cleared, Mamaw laid down between Frances and Pete and tied their hair to hers so they couldn’t get up and leave without waking her up.

Not usually by hair, but we are tied to our siblings in a way that transcends time and distance. I think this is true with cousins too. We have likely gotten into more trouble with them than any other humans. We know the reality of each other’s upbringing like no one else; the good and the bad. I liked this story and I wanted it to be the first one because it symbolizes the bond that started in a farmhouse in Maryland and travelled all the way down to North Carolina, carried on by my mother and her brothers and sisters and passed down to my generation of cousins. I think that the whole purpose of this blog will be to strengthen that bond again. So cousins, aunts and uncles, brother and sister...consider your hair tied.