I don’t have to tell you how nervous I was when my Granny wanted to read our West Texas, humorous romance. Everyone in my family refers to my Grandmother as Granny, and she reminds me a lot of the Granny on The Beverly Hillbillies. She resides in a small town outside of Lexington, Ky and her sister, my great aunt, lives in the bible belt part of the state. Granny is a strong woman with big opinions and prefers to watch baseball or football and drink diet coke as she works crossword puzzles from her reclining chair. She is sharp as a tack, and her strength and love is the glue that has held the family together for many years. She loves a good western and won’t go to a modern day movie. She doesn’t care much for television or reading fluff, so when she said she wanted to know how to get a copy, of course, I cringed and mailed one to her. I warned her of the sexual content, language and the small squabble of a fight or two. She wasn’t daunted, and told me she knew how to turn the page.
My Granny has written letters to me ever since I moved away from Louisiana, where I was raised from ages ten to twenty-one. I am not much of a phone talker, so I have written my grandmother back every time, though I admit I can take a little bit of time in-between letters. My handwriting is terrible, and I wonder how she gets through them, but there is something about a handwritten correspondence that says I love you, and I do love my Granny!
I received a letter in the mail last night that told me she had finished my book and that she loved it. She said she couldn’t put it down. In her eyes it was a good western, but she did tell me she didn’t approve of the foul language. I wrote back and told her that I didn’t say it. That bad-boy, Lenny, did! When I read the last part of her letter that told me she was proud of me, I can tell you honestly I cried. She has always supported us grand kids…though I hardly think of myself as a kid anymore. It was nice to see the written words and hear her voice in my head.