my parents (part two)

Some of you may be wondering how the Fox ended up in a college financial aid line rather than the welfare line. Well, in a word, grandparents. My grandparents saved me from being the stereotypical result of a single parent home. I love them for it.

Grandma Fox
She was the youngest of nine surviving children. Her father was an Irishman. He came over during the Great Potato Famine in Ireland with his parents. I found them in a ship's registry a few years ago. Grandma Fox was indeed a fox back in the day. She had reddish brown hair, fair skin, and lots of freckles. She also had the Irish temper, definitely not one to be messed with.

Grandma Fox met Grandpa Fox at a fish fry. Some other red head, freckled face dude was pushing up on her and Grandpa wasn't having it. You see, Grandpa Fox is a dark skinned man. Back then, women as fair as my grandmother didn't give men as dark as my grandfather the time of day. So, when this dude came sniffing Grandpa Fox thought he may be about to lose his woman.

Grandpa Fox grabbed one arm and red head grabbed the other. Neither would let go. Both pulled and ripped her shirt. Grandma cried and a fight ensued. Grandpa Fox won the fight and kept his woman. Grandma Fox always told that story with a smile on her face and a twinkle in her eye.

Grandma Fox was the sweetest woman in the world. She took in relatives kids and raised them as her own. She could cook like nobody's business and could decorate a cake to make it look like it came from a magazine. I always felt bad because she had to go back to work after I was born. It was 1990 something and she was still cleaning white women's houses. That bothered me for a long, long time. She never complained.

Grandma Fox had health problems my entire life. A stroke here. A heart attack there. She would always bounce back. Eventually, it got to be too much. That, coupled with Alzheimer's, it was really just a matter of time. She was my best friend. We could talk about any and everything. My favorite memory is us drinking root beer on Saturdays and pretending to get drunk.

Grandpa Fox
This dude is tough. He is a no-non sense kind dude. He was the middle child of 15 surviving children. He pushed us hard. 'Can't' was not an option. My favorite story about him is when he and my grandma were expecting their first child and he was out of work. He was walking down the street and some guys were digging a ditch. He saw a shovel with no man on it. He jumped down in the ditch and went to work. He worked all week. At the end of the week, he got in the pay line and got paid. He ended up digging ditches for several years, til something better came along.

Grandpa Fox has a sixth grade education, learned how to read using the Bible. I have yet to meet a man in my entire life who can hold a candle to him. He doesn't believe in war and violence and jumped the draft back in the day. He taught me to stand up for myself and to stand by my beliefs. He would say 'stand up to them or stand up to me' and, at 6' 5" 250 pounds, I took my chances with other folks.

So, these are my grandparents. One day I'll tell yall about how my great-grandmother ended up inheriting the house where she was a slave. Now, that story

Makes. No. Sense.