She was born May 17, 1925, to John Clifford Miller and Mittie Camilla Favors McMullen Miller near Brown's Ferry, Limestone County, Alabama. Her parents, siblings, nieces and nephews, and husband called her "Doodle Bug" or simply "Doodle." I knew her as "Nanny," the grandmother who raised me and my brother (the children of her only son, Wayne).
Now, the descriptor "larger than life" belonged to Nanny/Doodle for every day that she drew breath on this earth. Her care and concern for those whom she loved was fierce, and it was not a good idea for anyone to attempt to hurt or interfere with her family (she could be just as fierce in defending them). She had true grit, or what Rooster Cogburn called "sand." Nanny/Doodle endured two miscarriages, and the early onset of Rheumatoid Arthritis (which twisted her hands and fingers and caused her much pain).
She drove a big, black Cadillac and smoked like a chimney (Philip Morris cigarettes). She liked her mink stole and diamonds and wore a nightgown around the house. Nanny/Doodle loved filet mignon and drank at least one can of beer every day. When younger, she could out-jitterbug her contemporaries without breaking a sweat. Nanny/Doodle loved country music (her favorite was Loretta Lynn), and she loved watching a good movie (her favorite was Gone with the Wind). She could cuss like a sailor, but she NEVER took God's name in vain or used the F-word or the N-word (and she wouldn't tolerate their use in her presence).
She was an unparalleled storyteller. Nanny/Doodle had a memory like an elephant, and she could hold an audience spellbound with her ability to paint a verbal picture of some past event. Indeed, she had that rare ability to be both a romantic and a realist when recalling the past and had an absolute passion for the truth (even if it was not always flattering). In short, she could conjure the ghosts of the past at will and parade them before you as if they were still alive. To be sure, she was the source of my own interest in family lore, and the larger story of my family.
In August of 1985, I sat down with Nanny/Doodle in the living room of our house overlooking the Elk River in Rogersville, Alabama. I asked her to tell some of the stories that I had heard out of her own mouth over the years and recorded them on a cassette tape. What follows is a brief example of her storytelling abilities.
I prissed around into the backyard and fell into the well. Momma had to come and put her feet in the steps on each side of the well, get down into the water and wait till I came up. Then she got me and held me above the water and screamed until one of my aunts came to the rescue and got somebody to help her get out with me. I remember that very, very plainly!
Another time, it might have been the same day (if you could crowd all of that into one day), I was going across the pasture; and Daddy had a bull corralled into that pasture that was pretty ferocious. He had warned us not to go near the pasture. Anyway, I was the only one that ever went across the pasture.
I went across it, and the bull got after me. I hid behind a big oak tree. Daddy just seemed to appear out of thin air and had a big stick (like a 2x4 or 2x6). He hit that bull across the nose, and the bull's legs just crumpled, and he fell. Daddy grabbed me up on his shoulders and ran and jumped a fence with me. I thought he was just the biggest, bravest, strongest person in the world.
She went on to recount her experiences of the Great Depression and World War II - the great defining events of her generation. Nanny's/Doodle's stories give us a window into her life, and the lives of her parents, grandparents, siblings, and cousins that we otherwise wouldn't have an opportunity to know about.
At any rate, Happy Birthday Nanny - it happened one hundred years ago today!
