Yellow Rose of Texas is what my Texan grandparents called me when I was little. That was my song, they said. Even finding out that it was probably about Santa Ana’s kept woman hasn’t diminished how much I love hearing it, because it makes me think of Poppa and Deedee, and my real Texan roots.
Maybe this is the point where I should introduce my Texan grandparents. No, not my Belgian/Irish grandparents or my Greek grandparents. They, sadly, have all passed away. These are my Texan grandparents, and they shall henceforth be known as Poppa and Deedee. As you can tell if you know elemental genetics and/or math, Poppa and Deedee aren’t my real grandparents. Maybe not everyone is lucky enough to get a third set. I am.
Poppa and Deedee have known my parents since right before I was born. Sixth generation Texans, and fourth generation Aggies. Poppa got a Purple Heart at Normandy. Deedee bore him four sons, a couple years apart each. Their sons started having sons. So when my parents met them in Argentina, in 1980, and my mother had a baby girl, Poppa and Deedee went nuts over me. When my mother took to the hospital five months later, Poppa and Deedee helped look after me. And since both Dad and Poppa worked for Exxon, our lives intersected in Texas. They called me their “only” granddaughter. I soaked it UP.
My whole life, then, Poppa and Deedee have considered me one of their grandkids. Every year, no matter where we were living abroad, they sent me a birthday care package with colorful fun clothes, great little accessories (my grandmother understood the value of a good purse to a ten year old) and candy. When I stayed with them, in College Station, they’d take me to nearby attractions (tiny ponies!), Poppa would walk me to the playground. When I needed help on a WWII project in the eighth grade, Poppa generously offered to be the subject of my biography. They gave me a “Texan Passport” that I still have, with an option to check “Aggie” or “Longhorn”. They checked “Aggie”. They sent me a sweatshirt, once, that said “FUTURE AGGIE” on it, and joked that I was going to marry their grandson, Jason. I totally wanted to, too, when I was eight and he could walk backwards and I was pretty sure that he was the greatest thing I’d ever seen.
I never knew my real grandparents, either side, very well. But I knew Poppa and Deedee. And for someone with an already dwindled number of frequently-seen family members, they were the best fake grandparents I could have asked for. They’re getting older, these days. Poppa isn’t moving around a lot and Deedee is having surgery soon. But when I call to update them on life, to chat, to see how they’re doing, they still exclaim happily to hear from me, still call me “Christina” with that beautiful Texan twang, still tell me they love me, and still call me their first granddaughter, even though now they’ve got two real granddaughters and a GREAT granddaughter.
So, while I’m looking forward to our trip to Texas for a variety of other reasons – showing Stuart around my teenaged stomping grounds, introducing him to some of my best friends in the world, the better weather and the big highways and the great IHOPs and everything – what I’m looking forward to the most is seeing Poppa and Deedee again. Introducing them to my wonderful husband, hugging them a lot, helping my grandma in the kitchen and listening to Poppa’s old stories about Texas A&M.
I’m looking forward to being their grown-up first granddaughter. Even though she didn’t go to A&M and she didn’t marry Jason, I know they’ll be pretty happy to see how she’s turned out.

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