Mammy and Pappy, Captain Bill, Grammer
#5 Mammy and Pappy Like most kids, my early identity was shaped first by my family, and I was (and still am) fortunate to have my grandparents in my life. Growing up, I spent the most time with my mom's parents, Mammy and Pappy, who lived four hours north through the Smoky Mountains in Nashville, Tennessee. From what I recall, they made the drive down to visit us a few times a year, but other than the boring church services, I don't remember much. What I do remember, though, is loading the trunk of the car with presents, getting stuck on icy stretches of highway, and spending Christmas at The North Pole... I can still see their house perfectly--red brick with black shutters--and I remember the rush of the sled runs down the driveway and into the yard. I remember playing catch in the snow with my dad, uncle and Pappy, and I can still see the sign on the red front door: "Santa, Please Stop Here!" Inside, I can see the ceramic rooster on the island in the kitc