Due to circumstances beyond her control, my mother and I had to move in with her parents when I was still a toddler. My grandfather (also a great influence in my life) was an automobile mechanic - one of the first in our area to go to Detroit and be trained by the car manufacturers. No child support came, forcing Mother to go to work. My grandmother quit her job as an accomplished "seamstress and alteration lady" to stay home, care for me (actually, she didn’t just CARE for me, she RAISED me), and run a happy home. She continued to take in sewing at home and did everything she could to save money during those lean days. She was actively involved in church and the Order of the Eastern Star. Frequently I think of something I wish I had asked her. She wasn’t what could be called an educated person, but she sure was smart!
She seemed to enjoy being called by the unique nickname "Poy" (probably my attempt at Floy) by me and the entire neighborhood; it even spilled over into the community. She probably thought the names we used for the other grandmothers in the neighborhood - Mammy, Grandmother, Big Momma, Mrs. . . ., Aunt . . . - were "normal" names.
In my head, she was always my grandmother. In my heart, she was my mother, and Mother knew and understood that. She told people that at the funeral. She would let people know (in so many words, if not these) "Sidney and I are more like sisters separated by many years rather than mother and daughter because we were both raised by the same woman."
After my grandmother died, my grandfather told me our comfortable life style was totally due to her taking charge of the finances and "gently pushing" him to succeed. She wasn’t what would be considered affectionate, but looking back, it is clear she loved deeply. Her life wasn't easy. She was from a large family and knew how, and taught us how, to “make do.” She worked hard to make sure none of the four of us caused a black mark to be on the family name, and that we were respected in the community.
I am a few months shy of being as old as she was when she died, and I still feel “youngish” but 43 years ago she seemed so old to me. Today would have been her 119th birthday.
Sidney Lou Johnson and Floy "Poy" Jones Bedwell, 1948
