[January 2, 2024] I was not yet two years old when my parents temporarily sent me to live with my grandparents. My brother Philip was just born, healthy and happy, and yet it still would not be easy for my Mom with two small kids at home, so I was sent away. My mother’s mother was smart and tough but a kind woman. Her name was Alla B., but we only knew her as “Bigmama,” pronounced fast, like one word. I was in college before I knew it was two words, but I still write it as one word out of respect for her. For a few weeks, she cared for me while things settled down at home with my new brother. As the story was told to me, when Mom and Dad came to pick me up from Bigmama’s home, I didn’t want to leave. They had to drag me away, screaming that Bigmama was my real mother and I was certainly not leaving. Eventually, I was worn down and taken home. My stay at Bigmama’s house began a long, dedicated, loving relationship with my grandmother; I’m told I was her favorite grandkid. Of course, that made perfect sense.
My family lived only 20 minutes away from my Mom’s parents, so we visited often. Good for us kids, even if our visits drove my Dad a little crazy. Bigmama and Granddaddy lived on half a block in their small town, in an old 13-bedroom home once a traveler’s lodge so common in the 1920s. We kids loved that house with many hiding places and rooms to explore. Sometimes at night, we would tell stories of ghosts on the second floor and convince each other that we heard the sound of rattling chains and dragging feet, the kind of noises only a scared kid could imagine. But Bigmama put our fears to rest with a great hug and kiss on our heads and a few kind words. She would ensure we were busy enough so scary thoughts didn’t creep in. We often spent an entire week at Bigmama’s house. And while Granddaddy spent much time and money repairing and remodeling the main house, outhouses, fences, and grounds, the house was still hers to care for. And we will never forget it.
One day, Bigmama was doing the family laundry in the main outhouse. She washed in one of those old-fashioned open-top electric wringer-washing machines. When the wash finished, she ran the dripping wet clothes through a wringer and then took them out to the clothesline, where they dried in the sun. I was a little tyke but fascinated by Bigmama’s chores and the machines. I helped her that day. Then it happened suddenly. She was hanging bed sheets on the line. At that moment, my right hand got caught in the wringer, and I watched in panic as the rollers pulled my arm and squeezed it. “Help! Bigmama, help!” I yelled at the top of my lungs, now freaking out as the rollers rolled up my arm, squishing it, getting closer and closer to my shoulder. Time stood still. To my relief, Bigmama was there in a flash, running in from outside to stop the rollers by throwing the off-switch. I saw relief on her face, but I was in shock, crying, and yet I still had the fortitude to give her a long thank-you hug. I was taken to the hospital, less than an hour away, for X-rays to determine if there were any broken bones. There were none.
The best part about staying with my grandparents was the food and friendly mealtimes with family around the table. Bigmama didn’t get her name for nothing. We all loved to eat. All of us kids were “too skinny”; according to her, we needed “to put some meat on those bones.” Breakfast each day was homemade biscuits with a ton of butter, crispy bacon, eggs, and toast, topped off with a big glass of real orange juice. Granddaddy ate first and had hot, black coffee, the kind that would “put hairs on your chest.” The day would fly by, and Granddaddy would run supper. He would fry freshwater fish he had caught earlier in the day, frying them in his vast deep fryer. This fryer was so large and got so hot that it was located outside. He could fry a fish in 10 seconds. That’s how to feed a boatload of folks. Bigmama would make up black-eyed peas, fried okra, mashed taters, greens, and sweet iced tea. On a hot, humid Louisiana evening, that meal sure was tasty. Then it was topped off with pecan pie, made with pecans from pecan trees from her yard. Sometimes, if the season was right, we had watermelons. She often would feed as many as 15 of us grandkids at once. Hmmmm, good. The best meals ever. Bigmama was a great cook and the best grandmother ever.
Bigmama also taught me how to be a better young man. Looking back, she must have thought I needed the most help. Occasionally, we are the lucky ones who have someone in our family who keeps us on the path to being a good young man, and who does so by dispensing practical guidance. Bigmama was a no-nonsense lady with the utmost integrity, moral strength, and compassion. Yes, like most grandmothers, she dispensed advice with a sprinkling of discipline and was able to do it in a way that made you feel right at home. Here are some of her unsolicited advice for the benefit of her many grandsons: 1) Prayer and your family will help carry you, no matter what, 2) Obey the Golden Rule, and 3) Don’t throw rocks at cars or set the dry grass on fire. Good advice.
Bigmama also knew how to clean and bandage cuts and scrapes, remove bee stingers, treat sunburn, remove tree bark from our arms gravel from the knees, and how to calm down a hyped-up grandkid. And those lessons were forever!
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Please read my books:
True southern meals, “Bigmama would make up black-eyed peas, fried okra, mashed taters, greens, and sweet iced tea. On a hot, humid Louisiana evening, that meal sure was tasty. Then it was topped off with pecan pie, made with pecans from pecan trees from her yard. Sometimes, if the season was right, we had watermelons. ” Today if you even mention “watermelons” you are called a racist because that somehow is reference to dumb blacks. But not only is that not true, but as Gen. S. has noted, it is a common Deep South meal that is enjoyed by all, and its a cheap meal that everyone can eat and enjoy. Thank you Gen. Satterfield for the positive message you are sending and please not that I think you had a great Bigmama.
My point, you beat me to it. Thanks, Wild Bill.
Will Bill
Excellent comments. Watermelon are cheap meal enjoyed by different race of people during the summer. I meet several blacks who don’t like Watermelon. With my health issues I can purchase a whole melon. I get the pre slices pk.
Gen. Satterfield has published his 46th letter to his granddaughter. So many good things here & entertaining. Thank you sir. The series of letters is wonderful in many ways. Obviously Gen. Satterfield loves his granddaughter and that is expressed repeatedly. I hope that this long series continues and somehow I hope that Gen. Satterfield publishes his works. I would love to see a book on it.
I’m new to this website and it was this letter that attracted me here. The comments are surprising that they do not contain the typical bad-mouthing so common today.
Welcome aboard, Teacher_from_OK. I too lived in Oklahoma (while getting my degree).
Welcome Teacher. I hope you enjoy reading Gen. Satterfield’s articles and the comments here in the leadership forum. We get along pretty darn good. We exchange ideas and are polite and respectful of others. If you have an idea and want feedback, this is the place for you. Those with bad mouths and cussing is not tolerated.
Agreed, and welcome Teacher_in_OK.
Cheers, and Happy New Year to my American friends and fans. Another wonderful, and loving letter from Gen. Satterfield. Makes me want to write to my kids for their future reading. Cheers.
yeah general satterfield kicking as again
old warrior, You made my day again. Thank you!
“She often would feed as many as 15 of us grandkids at once.” Now that’s a family.
Gen. Satterfield, well done with this letter. I’m beginning to wonder if you will ever stop this series because the series is so entertaining. God bless.
For those looking to get married, it is a good idea that you investigate the family of that person. Anyone with a wonderful grandmother, Bigmama, in their family is definitely worth marrying because they have a solid foundation on family life and morals that are instilled in them by their parents and grandparents. That is the way it used to be, but no longer. My recommendation is to fully look into their family first. If they come from a broken family, you might want to consider passing them by.
Good marriage advice, Danny. I’m already married for 5 years and doing fine. My wife is not from a broken family and we are doing great. I heeded the advice from my mother to find a wife from a good family. Yep, it works.
Great series, made me laugh.
Gen. Satterfield has another winner here today when writing so kindly about his grandmother, called Bigmama. He didn’t say why that was her nickname for her grandkids. Inquiring minds would like to know, if Gen. S. knows. Thanks all and Happy New Year. Sorry about being slow on the Happy New Year, but, you know, those crazy parties.
Gen. Satterfield wrote, “Here are some of her unsolicited advice for the benefit of her many grandsons: 1) Prayer and your family will help carry you, no matter what, 2) Obey the Golden Rule, and 3) Don’t throw rocks at cars or set the dry grass on fire. Good advice.” What I would like to know on #3 is whether Doug Satterfield as a boy did these things. Now, that is something to talk about.
Yes, indeed. 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣
Ha Ha, Gibbie and Ursala. You guys are on the track of an “important” question. Maybe, Gen. Satterfield did that as a kid (I would not put it past him) or one of his cousins. Sounds like typical kids getting into trouble. We find that among boys, especially.
Inquiring minds would like to know. He He He … LOL
Gibbie
I too had a grandma who we called “bigmamma.” The 3 rules Gen Douglas grandma taught them were the same for us . Rule 3 .Do not throw a rock at car. Well;my brother; my cousin and I broke it. My grandma spanked us. She was a strong discipline person. We learned to obey the 3 rules real quick. She was an amazing cook. When my family moved closer to her my brother and I would call her each Sunday for sweets. She makes cakes Sunday. My mom wasn’t that fun of baking though she could.
Our grandma though she’s no longer living; the life lessons of prayer and treatment of others still carry our family.
Small world, isn’t it Eddie!
Douglas my friend yes it is. You writing my life story in each of the letters to your granddaughter. It’s amazing how we have so much in common
Hi from Canada and blessings to Gen. Satterfield and his family. And, Happy New Year.
Just gotta love this series that Gen. Satterfield has created. I wonder if he plans to turn the letters to his granddaughter into a book for something like that. He has done PDF books before and posting them here under “Electronic Books:”
https://www.theleadermaker.com/the-green-book/
Go and read them too.
I’d forgotten about the electronic books. Thanks Doug for the reminder. 👍
One amazing lady, your grandmother, Bigmama. I love the name. Very common in the Deep South at the time. And, I found it funny that you didn’t know the word was actually two words until you were an adult. 🤣
Best quote out of the letter.
“One day, Bigmama was doing the family laundry in the main outhouse. She washed in one of those old-fashioned open-top electric wringer-washing machines. When the wash finished, she ran the dripping wet clothes through a wringer and then took them out to the clothesline, where they dried in the sun. I was a little tyke but fascinated by Bigmama’s chores and the machines. I helped her that day. Then it happened suddenly. She was hanging bed sheets on the line. At that moment, my right hand got caught in the wringer, and I watched in panic as the rollers pulled my arm and squeezed it. “Help! Bigmama, help!” I yelled at the top of my lungs, now freaking out as the rollers rolled up my arm, squishing it, getting closer and closer to my shoulder. Time stood still. To my relief, Bigmama was there in a flash, running in from outside to stop the rollers by throwing the off-switch. I saw relief on her face, but I was in shock, crying, and yet I still had the fortitude to give her a long thank-you hug. I was taken to the hospital, less than an hour away, for X-rays to determine if there were any broken bones. There were none.” — Gen. Doug Satterfield
Yes it is.
Another great letter to his granddaughter. Let us know if she is enjoying her letters. Thanks Gen. Satterfield.
Loving these letters. Please continue with your series, Gen. Satterfield. You’ve hooked me on this series. BTW, I think you website is the VERY BEST leadership site out there. All your topics are both entertaining and educational and also have an element of morality too. Thanks.
Lady Hawk, you’re right about this and why I think this such a great website because of all the variety in articles. ❤
Yep, as always.
You were one lucky kid to have a grandmother like that.