I would like to thank all of you who have asked about my grandmother when you’ve seen me around town this week. She went to be with her Lord early Saturday morning.
My mother, Aunt Ruth, Aunt Jane and I have been taking care of her in her home for the last year. I was lucky enough to have had a special loving relationship with my Nana (I pronounced it Nanny) all of my life.
Nana was the embodiment of what makes a community like Blythewood so special. Her Mother was a Blume, her Father a Boney. She married a Rimer.
Somehow if you and your family have been here long enough we all end up being related in some form or fashion. Deep generational roots are what give Blythewood it’s special and unique identity.
Over the weekend as I reminisced and went through old pictures. I came across one in particular that captured Blythewood, “the country,” circa 1975. It was a picture of my grandfather, Papa, and his early ‘70s GMC pickup truck.
In the picture, the tailgate is dropped, Papa has his right leg up on the side of it, left arm on the side rail, standing up and laughing at the antics of the two kids sitting on the tailgate.
Shotguns can be seen in the gun rack in the back window, a cooler in the back of the truck with a few empty Miller cans beside it. My little brother Greg, 2, wearing overalls, and my cousin Stephanie, 3, are sitting on the right side of the tailgate. The left side is filled with a mess of birds Papa had just killed while hunting.
The family dog is lying on the ground under the truck, which is parked under a Canterbury tree that used to grace the front yard. Greg is eating an apple and Stephanie is holding one of Papa’s bird kills in her left hand and cackling.
The memories are of simple times and simple pleasures.
Nana is not in the picture, yet she is everywhere in it. Believe me, Papa enjoyed his grandchildren, but we were there because Nana always wanted us around.
She’d pick me up from my mom and dad’s after she got off work at Stone Manufacturing Company even if just for an hour or two, bring me to the Farm, then take me back home.
Countless generations of Blythewoodians have had the same kinds of experiences and share those same kinds of memories. So, next time you drive along Rimer Pond Road or Boney Road think of Nana Rimer and realize how many memories have been made for countless families in homes on those roads.
I will miss you Nana.