Mamoo and Pop

 

Mamoo and Pop

Mamoo was born in 1891 and raised in Warrenton, Georgia. Her family came from Tennessee, and she was a direct descendant of John Sevier, the first governor of Tennessee — something she was very proud of. She was also proud of her membership in the Daughters of the American Revolution.

She graduated from Wesleyan College for Women in Macon, Georgia, with a degree in piano. She married my grandfather in 1914, and they moved to Tampa in the mid-1920s.

Their courtship was memorable. They were engaged twice before they finally married — each time breaking it off after an argument. Because my grandfather was young and did not have much money, her engagement ring became smaller with each attempt.

That seemed to set the tone for their relationship.

They were not openly hostile — there was no yelling or dramatic fighting — but there was a constant undercurrent of quiet disagreement. They bickered, gently but persistently. I remember riding in the car with them, listening as they debated the best way to get wherever we were going.

Their household was lively.

Evenings were often spent on the screened porch, which was open on three sides and caught a beautiful breeze in the days before air conditioning. We would sit together, listening to the radio.

Caroline remembers us listening to One Man’s Family, with everyone talking at once.

Pop was born in Oliver, Georgia, in 1886, a small town northwest of Savannah. His grandfather had been a master builder, responsible for many of Savannah’s historic buildings, having moved there from New Jersey around 1810.

Pop was well educated. He attended Georgia Military Academy in Milledgeville, earned his bachelor’s degree from the University of Georgia, his law degree from Mercer, and did postgraduate work at the University of Michigan.

He became a lawyer and later served as a Small Claims judge in Tampa.

Caroline tells me he had a routine — coming home for lunch each day, listening to his soap opera, taking a nap, and then returning to work.

I didn’t spend as much time with Pop, but I loved Mamoo.

She was a bit fussy and a worrier, but clearly loved me.

Pop loved gardening and filled the yard with tropical plants. Catherine and I would climb the orchid tree near the front driveway and run across the ivy that wrapped around the columns — even though it probably drove him a little crazy.

He also fed the birds. But he was not fond of squirrels.

Caroline tells the story of how Pop rigged up a device so that when squirrels came to eat the birdseed, he could send a small jolt of electricity to chase them away. It was his way of keeping order in the yard.

He loved to take family pictures.

Looking back, their home was full of contrasts —

refinement and fussiness,

order and argument,

discipline and play.

And somewhere in the middle of it all:

Voices talking over one another,

a radio playing in the background,

the warm air moving through the porch—

life unfolding in its own way,

not perfectly peaceful,

but full.

And even there,

in the noise and the differences,

love had its place.