My sister Jenny found this and sent it my way. This is my great grandmother (my mother’s mother’s mother) Dorothy Stephens (“Gran’ma”), 49, in the Birmingham Post-Herald on September 30, 1955:
She’s been gone 15 years or so. She adored my sister and me and doted on us endlessly. One of my very favorite things to do as a child was visit her where she lived with my great aunt and uncle on Logan Martin Lake, about halfway to Birmingham from my house in Anniston.
Gran’ma was a masterful cook who was often asked for her recipes. She would always omit some little thing, or give a slightly incorrect quantity for something, then cackle under her breath at the person saying “but mine didn’t come out as nice as Dorothy’s.” Isn’t that mean? I’ve never had any cheese straws or shortbread cookies that were even close to hers.
I always heard whispers of colorful chapters in her life, like wartime jobs she had and about (pretty much literally) throwing her philandering husband out, but they were just that–whispers. I was only just getting old enough to hear the real stories when she died, and I never thought to ask my grandmother, great aunt, or mom, and now they’re all gone too.
If there are things you want to know about your family, take the time to ask now.