Leonard Francis Brooks, (Grandma) Bertha Evelena Brooks,
William Homer Brooks, Geneva Agnes Brooks ca.1912
A Picture of My Grandma
words and music © by Eddie Allen Music 2016
words and music © by Eddie Allen Music 2016
That's a picture of my Grandma
When she was just a little girl
Her clothes seem funny to us now
But did you ever see such curls?
And that's your great-great Uncle Leonard
Standin' by her side
No I never met him
He was a young man when he died
The only childhood picture that I have
I think it's nineteen-twelve
A photograph cost money then
They had so little for themselves
It must have been a big occasion
All in their Sunday best
No one's smiling in the picture though
So we can only guess
What their lives were like back in those days
My Grandma used to say
We didn't know how poor we were
We just struggled from day to day
We picked cotton 'til our hands were sore
Our backs and shoulders bent
Daddy'd always say just one row more
When us kids begged to quit
Seven children of this union born
To her parents Jess and Jane
Nancy Edna died at five weeks old
When Grandma was just eight
And then Leonard in that car crash
When cars and roads were new
Memories filled my Grandma's eyes with tears
There were more than just a few
For death came often in those days
There was danger and disease
Doctors scarce but undertakers
Common as you please
It was her dream to be a teacher
A dream not meant to be
She studied hard and she got good marks
But grinding poverty
Forced her back into the cotton fields
So many mouths to feed
A stream of hoboes at the door
They were all in need
So fifth grade was the end of school
She was needed back at home
Hard work was the only tool
When survival was the goal
She met and married my Granddad
In nineteen twenty-four
Three years she kept house in a tent
With hard earth for their floor
He worked in the oil fields
Kansas Oklahome
Across the Texas plains on horseback
They were savin' for a home
Their work paid off they bought a farm
In Kingman County where
The tiny town of Norwich, Kansas
Lay three miles west of there
In 'twenty-eight and 'thirty
Came my Dad and Uncle Mel
The same time that the Dust Bowl came
And turned their lives to Hell
Neighbors thought the world was ending
Many packed and ran away
Grandma might have been afraid
But she was bound to stay
She shoveled dust out of that house
Each and every day
Wet dishrags 'round the babies' mouths
So they could breathe okay
Tough times don't last forever
Tough people make it through
By the time I came along
In nineteen fifty-two
In the little house my Granddad built
Here on Denton Street
Is where I first remember Grandma
Where I scampered at her feet
The peace and love within that home
Are now a part of me
And when across this world I've roamed
I've always longed to be
There beside my Grandma
When she's cookin' at the stove
Or sittin' right up close to her
In that De Soto that she drove
Or workin' in her garden
Hoein' in the beans
Or cuttin' rhubarb for a pie
Or patchin' up my jeans
I know that she was only human
But to me she seemed a saint
She often spoke of her hard times
But she spoke without complaint
And now just one more story
It's the last one that she told
Her and Granddad drove to Kansas
After they'd grown old
They came across that dusty field
The cotton was in bloom
She wanted him to take her picture
And to hang it in their room
But when he viewed her through the lens
He shook with love and rage
He said I will not take your photograph
Not with you standin' in this cage
So that's my Grandma in the picture
When she was just a little girl
We gave her name to you
Back when you became our world
Now a little boy who is your own
His life won't be so hard
He'll never know how rich he is
Because my Grandma won't be far
She'll look down on him and me
When I hold his hand
And I'll tell him her history
As he grows to be a man
That's my Grandma in the picture
When she was just a little girl
Her clothes seem funny to us now
But did you ever see such curls?
