A Tale of 3 Inspiring Women

Recently, people have asked me: “Why R.L. Dailey? Why a pen name?” R.L. Dailey is a pseudonym to keep my personal life separate from my author life. However, R.L. Dailey means so much more to me as I chose this name for a specific purpose. A smile is currently spreading across my face as I write this, and it warms my heart to share these stories.

When thinking of a pen name, I knew exactly what I wanted to do. My family’s history and the personalities of my strong-willed grandmothers, the three I knew the best, inspired my first novel. Because of this, I designed a pseudonym around their names, and here is where I pay homage to these three inspiring women. 

The story behind R.L. Dailey... 

R for Rita, my maternal grandmother. 

Have you ever met a woman who was about 4’10”, teeny tiny, but gracefully demanded respect just by entering a room? Or a woman who didn’t take “no, thank you, I’m full” for an answer? Or a woman who asked you how much your dress cost, and after you told her proudly, “only ten bucks, Grandma”, she responded with “I could’a made that for fifty-cents”? 

Then you’ve met a woman similar to my Grandma Rita. 

The most admirable quality Grandma Rita possessed was resilience. Whether she came out of the womb swinging her fists or learned the behavior overtime, one thing was certain, you did not mess with Grandma Rita. 

Born during the Great Depression, married during the Cold War to a US marine, raised 4 children, ran an appliance store, lost her 18-year-old daughter to a car accident, inspired 10 grandchildren, maintained an open-door and open-table policy in her home 24 hours a day, widowed in her sixties, vacationed world-wide, volunteered aggressively, attended church religiously, and greeted each person she met with a casual demeanor that made you feel like you were already great friends, Grandma Rita was extroverted, energetic, and beyond unique. 

She was everything a child expected from a textbook grandmother and more. She took risks, enjoyed family time, went on adventures with her friends, stayed out way too late, and enjoyed good whiskey. 

One of the most important things Grandma Rita taught me was to love myself. She taught me the value of being a strong woman who demanded respect; however, she didn't just tell me these things outright. Nope, she had her own unique way of explaining them. 

One day when I was a twelve-year-old girl just becoming interested in boys, my grandmother decided to share a story with me that her mother had told her. This is how I remember it:

So we had chickens. And ya know, those roosters were somethin’ else. When those roosters were trying to fertilize those eggs, the rooster would chase down those chickens. And when that rooster got that look in his eye, those chickens (*she clapped*) took off! Ya see, they didn’t want the rooster to get ‘em. Some of those chickens squatted immediately so the rooster could do his job. But other chickens, the smart ones, ran and ran. And the funny thing was that rooster -- well ya know -- he passed right by those squattin’ chickens and went for the runners. He wanted those chickens that were hard to get. (Then she looked at me, accentuating her point with her finger.) You remember that -- don’t you be a squattin’ chicken, ya hear?

And this was the way my grandmother contributed to my sex education. 

I remember my cheeks burned red when she finished the story. I couldn’t believe she was telling me this. However, I definitely got the point. My creative, well-intentioned grandmother was trying to explain that I was worth the wait. And any boy who was willing to wait and do the work was the right guy for me. I was special enough to respect myself and my body. 

In that one awkward story about propagating chickens, my grandmother had successfully expressed her values and her expectations of me. The greatest thing was she shared the story in a way that made me feel like she believed in me, and I was worthy of the expectation. I didn’t feel like she was telling me what to do at all. She made me believe I deserved respect, and I’m happy to say I kept runnin’ until I snatched myself an extremely loving, generous, and respectable rooster.

L for Laura, my paternal grandmother. 

Have you ever met a woman that lit up immediately at just your very presence? Have you ever met a woman that held a deep appreciation for the beauty that came out of historical tragedy? Have you ever met a woman who could silence a room of squabbling siblings with just one look? 

Then you already know a little about my Grandma Laura. 

My Grandma Laura was a woman with a beautiful, deep current of emotion running through her very essence. While to the naked eye, she was a contemplative woman sitting in her rocking chair, those who truly knew her understood the intricate web of emotion that created the foundation of her life. 

When pinpointing Grandma Laura’s most admirable quality, fierce passion is the first that comes to mind. It is my favorite. Grandma Laura loved, and she loved hard. She was incredibly supportive and wanted what was best for her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. There was absolutely no question whether Grandma Laura loved you or not because she made her positive, fierce love known. She was sure to tell us how beautiful or handsome we were and how proud she was of us.

Losing her own mother at a young age and helping to raise her younger siblings no doubtedly taught my grandmother to cherish her family. She married my grandfather, an extroverted go-getter, during the Cold War and raised three children of her own. She had a great passion for art and history. She painted, held dinner parties, read hundreds of books, cross-stitched, and became heavily invested in her favorite movies and television shows.

My favorite thing about Grandma Laura’s fierce love was her ability to make you feel like the most special person in the entire world. When she talked to me, she gave me her complete and undivided attention. She was fully focused on what I had to say, and she was completely invested in my stories -- good or bad. If you ever had a bad day -- one of those days when the world was treating you just terrible and people were bringing you down -- Grandma Laura would be on your side. 

I remember telling her once about kids at school who were being mean to me, and she responded with a passionate look and scoff of disgust toward their behavior. I remember smiling at her response and feeling elated that she saw my side of the story. There was no doubt -- Grandma Laura was definitely in my corner and forever would be. And those kids who were being mean to me ... well, I would’ve pitied them had my grandmother gotten ahold of them. 

One important point my grandmother made sure I understood was that strong women are extremely important. As I grew up, I noticed my grandmother valued stories of strong women. She talked about them all the time. She appreciated sassy, independent women who valued family and went against the grain. She also loved history. So within her library are several books of misunderstood women of the past. 

Her favorite time in history to discuss and read about was the Civil War. She had an appreciation for beautiful southern architecture and took time to read the stories of those who survived during times of tragedy. While many didn’t understand her study of historical tragedies, I believe that was how Grandma learned to cope with her own tragedies in life. She saw the hopeful beauty that persisted out of tragedy, which filled her with comfort and peace. 

Grandma Laura gave me a new way to appreciate life. She gave me the ability to see the beauty in every story, especially my own.

Dailey for Margaret Dailey, my paternal great-grandmother. 

Have you ever met a woman who smiled so brightly she lit up a room? Have you ever met a woman who went out of her way to ensure her family stuck together? Have you ever met a woman so stubborn no one even tried to question her? Or a woman who maintained beautiful elegance surrounded by rambunctious boys?

Then you’ve met a woman like my great-grandmother.

Now, my memories from my paternal great-grandmother are limited. She died when I was in elementary school. However, what I do remember is her powerful elegance. Margaret Dailey was a descendent of Irish immigrants who raised four boys and married a generous, fun-loving lawyer. I remember her as a woman with long skirts, dangly loud bracelets, and a beautiful smile. I seriously remember her eyes twinkling when her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren were in a room together. 

In raising her four boys, she was determined to create gentlemen. All the boys were required to learn an instrument. And when we got together as a family -- despite the fact they were well into their 50’s and 60’s -- Grandma Margaret made her sons play big band music together. She would even clap her hands to keep time, smiling broadly. And her sons were more than happy to make their mama proud. 

Despite her efforts to run an elegant household, her husband and boys often plotted against her. Stories are told of her shouting at her boys when they were fighting to “take it outside”. No, she didn’t stop their rambunctious behavior. She simply told them to “take it outside”. Boys will be boys. 

Another time, when she was hosting a family barbeque, her husband thought it would be funny to let a horse run through the house from the front door to the back door. And what was her response to a large animal running through her elegantly decorated farmhouse? Most would lose it. But, Grandma Margaret was caught on a black and white reel laughing as the horse burst through the back door. She simply embraced the madness.

Lastly, Grandma Margaret wanted French doors in her 19th century brick farmhouse. The contractor at the time told her no because it was a load-bearing wall. She said that’s what she wanted, insisting on the look she was after. They did it, and the house is still standing to this day. I know because my family and I live in it! 

The stories of Grandma Margaret have been told time and time again in my family. I loved and still love hearing them. What I learned from Grandma Margaret was how to be a lady while still maintaining my femininity as well as how to gracefully accept the chaos of life (especially, the chaos of raising boys). She took charge of her home and maintained high expectations. Family was the most important thing to her, and she tied them together in any way possible. This included encouraging a yearly family reunion in Florida, which has continued for almost forty years. Forty years! How amazing is that?! I swear she places a tiny pinch of nostalgia in our hearts each year to ensure we want to continue to go. 

Another part of her I feel she impressed upon my heart is a love for Ireland. Grandma Margaret’s rich Irish heritage, which can be traced to rural parts of Missouri, has always been so intriguing and unleashes unlimited possibilities in my imagination. 

So there you have it, R.L. Dailey. 

Being a granddaughter is an interesting role. You see your grandmothers in a unique light. It’s a perspective between reality, what you believe them to be, and how you remember them. After grandparents die, they almost become legendary. True stories evolve into legends, often comical, of heroic deeds done by everyday people. And the legendary stories around these women are ones of strong independent individuals who made family their number one priority. They not only created beautiful families but maintained them to the very end. They instilled their values on their grandchildren merely by example. 

For me, what I know about these impressive women is mixed with a deep curiosity. I wish I’d known more about them. I miss them every single day of my life and hold each close to my heart. I know that if they have the power to help guide their children and grandchildren as guardian angels, they are powering through and making it happen. And I’m sure God is extremely proud of the compassionate, loving women he created.

If these women inspire you or interest you, read Hunting for Light and see if you can find traces of them throughout the trilogy. Believe me, you will! 

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