Southern Posture

My grandmother had a discernible shape that, if I close my eyes for a half a wink, I can to this day evoke without even thinking about it. Her build was sturdy yet feminine, due in part to her regular uniform of a homemade dress, cinched ever so slightly at the waist, and thigh-high stockings held in place by slim, elastic garters. Oftentimes, she wore a hairnet, which kept stray strands of gray hair pushed back from her face, but I also have memories of her in a hat, worn mostly when she worked outside in her garden.

The defining attribute, however, that contributed to my grandmother's recognizable form was the placement of her hands on her hips. This pose, a staple in her body language, was used for a multitude of pursuant questions, usually addressed to her grandchildren: "Where are you going with those scissors?"  Or "what do you mean your sister jumped off her skateboard before she reached the bottom of the hill and scraped her knees? Well, why on earth did you leave her crying in the middle of the road!?" And one of my favorites - "how did you fall backward into that washtub of clean water I just put on the porch? You were holding a cat? We don't own a cat!"

Looking back, I attribute the positioning of my grandmother's hands on her hips as a holdover from her southern upbringing. It wasn't an aggressive stance, but rather an unconscious, lady-like reaction to what was happening around her. Frequently, it worked in tandem with a deep sigh, and a slight tilt of the head. Did my grandmother know the answers to the questions she asked us? More than likely. Did she believe our less-than-honest, but highly creative responses? Probably not. But, she put her hands on her hips and listened anyway. Like I said, it was a southern posture. And for her grandchildren, a gesture of her abiding love.