A Most Unforgettable Character from My Life: Willie Marie Toby Paschall There was an incredible force of nature, born on this date in 1909, in the diminutive, yet sturdy and stout frame of a woman who fostered my mother through childhood becoming my grandmother, not by blood but by love. She was called Toby since her formative years, and affectionately called Pig by her own mother, was also a jolly, rotund majordomo for many white families in Norfolk and in Virginia Beach in the 1950s through early 1970s. We boys, Keith, Mark and I knew Toby as the elfin woman who baked cakes and pies, crochet bedding and clothing, and mended everything by hand; and slipped into our hands two or three dollars without us ever asking. She was as fine a cook as any around. Thrifty and highly principled, Toby kept an immaculate house and though, short in stature, she carried a strength twice her size. She walked everywhere and anywhere, taking the city bus for longer trips but she got around. When my younger brother and I were babysat, Toby would take us around calling on her friends to show off her grandsons, the middle one as I was called; and the baby, as Mark was called. When my first major growth spurt between fourth and fifth grade occurred, I was taller than Toby. It was around this time I began to call her grandma. I just thought that this was more of a befitting title for the woman who raised my mother and helped raised me, too. She appreciated being called grandma. In her final years, I always made sure she knew how much I valued her in my life. When she left this earthly life at age 94, I was saddened by the void her death left it in my life, but relieved she was at rest and she would not be lonely any longer having outlived her entire family by decades and many of her remarkable friends and admirers. She witnessed many milestones from my life: my graduations (kindergarten through college), the births of my own children and one of my favorite memories was as I escorted her through WVEC-TV when I was a Producer/Director there, she said, why is the place so cold? She hated seeing my hair turn silver in spots (I prematurely started greying when I was my 30s) and she cried every time shed asked me why my arm was cocked to one side and I had keep telling her I had a stroke. I was always 11 years old to her. It was her most vibrant memory of me before she passed away. Through her I learned the value of keeping friends and being sociable, for Grandma knew no strangers. I learned to be generous especially with my time and my affections, because grandma would say to me, Youre my Michael and I love you, baby. Thank you Grandma and Happy 105th Anniversary of your birth, who needs blood when you have love.
Posted on: Sun, 07 Dec 2014 11:44:01 +0000
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