Not everyone gets the opportunity to have 5 direct grandparents as a child, but I did. I won’t go into the details of how it happened, but I ended up with a step grandmother, for which I am eternally grateful.
Side note: I only have one grandmother remaining out of the 5, and she knows how much I lover her. The rest of them are dead, so they can’t get offended by my favoritism.
MawMaw Sue and I dancing. Those aviator frames, though.
Mary Sue Quinn, or MawMaw Sue as we called her, was in my life from the beginning of my memories. When I first met her, she lived on the golf course near the Lake Charles Country Club. Looking back, I now realize why she was so impactful on the person I have become.
Here’s the MawMaw Sue that I knew and cherish:
Her mother, Maw Lee, was a well educated lady, and from what I can remember, she taught English, strictly enforcing grammatical excellence. Sue carried these traits down through her children and her grandchildren. She hailed from humble roots, but you would never know it. In life, we are able to choose the role we play, and Sue chose class and sophistication.
On the outside, she had style, grace, and a waistline that most women would envy. Her sense of style transcended the decades, but she definitely rocked a 90s high wasted jean! She was so versatile with her style. Sue could be dressed up to the 9’s, but then throw on her country digs and come play in the creek with us. I’ll always remember her satin robe in the mornings with those gold lame house slippers. (She gifted me a pair of the slippers one year for Christmas, but my mother tossed them out, citing that was too feminine for me at that young age. Little did she know…)
Her hair was never colored, she decided to age gracefully through the gray. We would spend at least a week during the summer at their house in Ragley and play on the farm. At night, as they caught up on Day of Our Lives, that was recorded on a VHS tape, I would play in her hair. She’d let me style her up like a 90s glam queen! The biggest mistake she ever made was introducing me to a teasing brush! She had those side hair comb clips, and I would always accidentally scratch her scalp trying to get them as tight as humanly possible. PawPaw Boots would be sitting over in his chair, never questioning a single part of it. He’d just let us do our thing. I guess he thought I knew what I was doing.
Sue always had something for us to do when we went for our week visits. Every trip had a craft project. I remember the year she taught me how to sew properly by hand. (Sewing on a machine was introduced to me by MawMaw Judy, so don’t get it twisted.) Mind you, I was probably 7, but she taught me how to thread the needle and how to make a knot at the end. I made a round pillow out of smiley face fabric. I was so proud of that first masterpiece. Other craft projects consisted of creating a vision board on a poster with magazine clippings, and there was one time where we painted. I think she and I shared a mild OCD/perfectionist view on things, so her influence on my projects is still relevant to this day. (What Would MawMaw Sue Do?)
She definitely paid a lot of attention to detail. She chose white carpet in her house in Ragley. The white carpet ran from the living room, dining room, up the stairs, and into all upstairs bedrooms. This was no ordinary white carpet. This was a SPOTLESS white carpet, and it was to remain that way. She would play a really interesting game with us, as children. There was always a cleaning day. She made it so fun that we didn’t even realize that we were basically the help. We would pull out the dust rags and that giant vacuum with 45 different attachments, and go to town on the house cleaning. Good times.
Sue had a heart of gold and a smile to match. I don’t doubt for a minute that she knew I was different, even at an early age. I always felt so accepted by her. MawMaw Sue groomed us to be our most authentic selves. I had other people in my life that were supportive, don’t get me wrong, but Sue showed me that I didn’t need to impress anyone. All I needed to do was be confident in who I was, hold my head up high, and commit. There’s a quality that I’ve discussed with a few others in my life about committing to being me. When the door opens and I walk in, it’s SHOWTIME. Every experience is a gift and an opportunity to have the best time possible. She was the epitome of that logic. Every time she walked into a room, you felt her energy. She was smiling, she was confident, she carried herself in such a way that your attention couldn’t help but gravitate to her. She was a magical creature that exuded class and sophistication. I come from modest means. My family is from the marshes of Southwest Louisiana, and basically I was raised on a farm. I grew up observing and trying to see where I fit in, and when I saw MawMaw Sue, it felt right.
I paid attention to her. I saw her. I wanted to be her. I wanted to live in her shoes, [and could have if my mother hadn’t snatched them away!] Everyone knew it, whether they are willing to acknowledge it or not. She was so lovely, and loved us as if we were her own flesh and blood. I know she definitely didn’t play favoritism with her grandchildren, but she and I understood one another on a higher level. I grasped every concept she threw my way, and I tried to never let her down. She kept me feeling classy with Christmas gifts, one year gifting me a paisley house coat robe. Definitely living my Hugh Hefner fantasy.
As I grew into a young adult, the distance grew between us, and then she got cancer. That took her out of our lives for large periods of time because the chemo and radiation would wreak havoc on her immune system. She couldn’t risk catching something. At that time in my life, I was going through so many changes of becoming an adult and working on my future and trying to stay focused. There just wasn’t enough time.
Here’s a story to lighten the mood: One time, Boots and Sue took a trip, and my aunt and I offered to house sit and feed the dogs while they were out of town. I guess I was around 18-19 because I was into being a drag queen, and I had packed some fun stuff to play with while we were there. Basically, I knew she had a wig from when she lost her hair going through chemo and radiation, so I made it my mission to find it. I dug everywhere, and finally found it in the spare bedroom closet. My aunt and I played around, took some pictures of me all dressed up, then I took off all those drag clothes and put on some boy clothes to go feed the dogs. I haphazardly threw all the clothes around the living room and kitchen because we were anticipating coming right back in for the night. Please allow me to paint this picture: I had 7 1/2 stripper platform shoes, a faux snake skin skirt, fishnets, some skanky top, and her cancer wig all strewn about like someone was going to be getting freaky up in there. The door locked behind us. We had left the keys inside. We couldn’t get back in. All we could do was look through the paned glass door at the crazy drag mess to which Boots and Sue were going to arrive home. My aunt called her and gave the scoop on what had happened, yadda, yadda, yadda, and upon their next visit to our house, she brought a double Walmart bagged, neatly folded collection of my things that I had left all over their house. There was no judgement. There was no anger. She knew what was going on. She understood my life. She saw me for me, and she knew I was being authentic. It was her choice to accept me.
The end of our journey together was something that I could have never dreamed. The cancer was winning. She was home on hospice, and her closest family were asked to be around. I remember asking my employer to leave because I needed to be there. One day turned into two, three, and on the fourth day, I needed to get away. She was still so lovely even in that state. She rested a lot during that time, but she was still listening. I say that, because one night as we were gathered around her in the living room, simply reminiscing, and I said something. I can’t quite recall the exact words, but everyone sort of mocked me, but she opened her eyes for a brief moment and said, “But he was grammatically correct.” Everyone just looked around like, WTF? and I knew we still had our bond. She ended up passing away later that week, and I was able to share her very last moment. I’ve never seen someone smile in death, but she passed away with a beautiful grin on her face.
The reason I wrote this blog entry is because I miss her. I miss everything she was. I miss the fact that I had a real life human connection, and I can’t see her anymore. I have moments where I forget how much influence she had on my life, however, today, she came back to me. I was having a crap morning, and I was basically dwelling in self pity. I couldn’t find a reason to get me out of the funk. My aunt, the same one from the drag night, was texting me and she mentioned MawMaw Sue. (I’m tearing up just thinking about it.) She referenced how many times she had to have dark conversations about life and circumstances of life and how Sue would listen and try to make heads or tails of it. She was so understanding, so purposeful, and so uplifting. She always knew there was more to it, the present was just a step in that direction.
I have to remember to rely on her positive influence. Sue was in my life for a reason. She left a mark on my life because, somehow, she knew I’d need it later. I need it, now. As you read this, you can use the mantra, ‘What Would MawMaw Sue Do?’ She will guide you.