Miss Sarah’s Weave

Miss Sarah’s Weave

Miss Sarah, as everybody who knew her called her, was near onto ninety years old.  She was a real “Fox” if I ever knew one.  She helped me to take care of my mother.  When my mother died, she sold her house and moved into mother’s house across the patio from us.  She was family, of course, and truly “She Who Must Be Obeyed”.  Miss Sarah was from Cajun country back when her mother  hid the kids in the woods to escape the KKK.  Lord, what a colorful life she had.  Moved to California and worked for Kenan Winn.  She raised the children of a wealthy Jewish family who considered her to be their real mother until the day she died and beyond.  I can still hear her stomping in the back door after sunrise calling out to my husband to get up to help her with that gumbo…all the while banging pots and pans loudly enough to wake the dead.  She’d have plans for the day, every day.  She cooked at a little family care home until she died…rain or snow.  Once she had to walk in the snow for several blocks to get there, but she went trudging down the slippery street in her rubber boots with her coat tail swinging behind.  Nobody had the nerve to try to stop her so we watched as she turned the corner on her way to work.  Her car and ours were snowed in.  She didn’t have much hair left, but she liked hair so she alternately had weaves and wore wigs.  She was a dresser too.  She invited my husband and me to a church banquet once.  Her main concern was, as she said, whether I had anything “shiny” enough to wear!  I happened to own a shiny bejeweled jacket, thank God.  My husband left his job thirty years earlier to start his own business, grew a beard, took off his tie and his watch and refused to go anywhere that required a dress code higher than a pair of jeans and boots.  Even he couldn’t refuse her.  So…off we went.  I was both amused and furious when we arrived at the banquet.  Everyone was seated.  She had deliberately arranged for us to be fashionably late so she could lead us down the length of the room like royalty.  She strutting in her high heels with her back as straight as an arrow with us trailing behind.  I tried my best to look as regal as she.  I could have strangled her.  Ah, how I miss her sometimes still.

6 Comments on “Miss Sarah’s Weave

  1. Any woman who wakes at the crack of dawn to cook gumbo is alright with me…. being as that is the proper time to cook gumbo! Great story!


  2. The world needs more people like Miss Sarah, and I just can’t imagine how uncomfortable that ‘do’ feels. Love your storytelling, sounds like a life well lived.


  3. You weave for us a grand tribute to a grand member of your extended family–a personality which lives yet in your sharing her with us. I feel privileged to be among your circle of sharing, and can picture all you tell and describe.


    • I just visited a blog called High River Arts by Jane Willson. The first thing I saw was your watercolor of the horses. It had stuck in my head too. I’m happy for her. I understand the thrill of being able to buy a piece that really touches us. I never consider that I have actually bought a piece or that it really belongs to me. I figure it’s on loan to me since nobody can buy or own beauty. I smiled at her initiation into buying online. I’ve bought paintings and etchings online for years. I’ve always found artists and galleries to represent the work and its condition honestly. I have bought a lot of old etchings (sight unseen) along with a number of watercolors so honesty is important. I agree with Jane that your paintings have a quality about them that softens the often harsh realities of life and keeps drawing us back with every new post. Thank you so much for visiting and liking what I have done here.


  4. This is an image that needs a story. Why does this woman have her face pressed so close to the door/window? Great shot and a mystery for the viewer.


    • I’m sorry. I posted before I entered the story just to see how she looked. She really isn’t that close to the wall. I asked her to turn around so I could photograph her hair weave so it was an impromptu sort of snapshot. It was hard to catch Miss Sarah to photograph her!



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