S.O.S.

(Grand) Mama's scathing pronouncement---"Girl, you must be stuck on stupid---crushed the soul of her target (more often than not, me).  With little room for debate, I could only respond with a "Yes,  Ma'am."  I certainly couldn't respond with a " No way!"  I'd be challenging, not just any adult, but the revered, best chicken salad maker in the whole wide world.  Of course, I silently disagreed with Mama's conclusion, I just knew to keep it to myself.  No matter how much I gritted my teeth. 

Mama never "cussed," or used the Lord's name in vain, although just about everything else was fair game.  A certifiably accomplished cook, she paid as much attention to her Sunday-go-to-meeting dresses, suits, hats, high heels, and gloves as the most fastidious of women.  Mama's only weakness? She loved being married and probably set the record in her circle by surviving five or six husbands.  I lost count and interest after Mister Number Three.

So for Mama to speculate that I wasn't bright caused me to withdraw into a quiet place.   She always said, "Think, Girl! I keep telling you, you got to think smarter, better, and faster than those other people.  You got to be twice as good as them.   God gave you too good a brain for you NOT to use it!" That's when retrospection introduced itself. I became retrospective (even as a young kid, I loved big words).  I'd carefully dissect my every act against my student Webster's dictionary and tie myself into knots while I tried to figure out how to redeem myself.  For sure,  I never repeated the behavior that'd led to Mama's denouncement.  

How I could re-establish myself as her favored granddaughter, among numerous grandchildren, occupied me until I'd come up with something, anything that garnered me the opposite of being stuck on stupid! I redoubled my efforts to get the best grades at the next grading period (although I knew I couldn't get better than the A's I always got).  Thankfully, Mama rarely remembered.  Nevertheless, she'd proudly say, "I knew my Baby was the smartest little girl I know!"  The following Sunday after church, she'd hand me the prized jar of chicken salad in the small Hellman's mayonnaise jar.  Alright! Mission accomplished.  I learned to avoid the world of stupid for as long as possible and only relapsed when it was unavoidable. 

After all, Mama had enough grandchildren to whom she could apply the "Stuck on Stupid" term.  "Stuck on Stupid," indeed! No, Ma'am.