As everyone knows February is the month of Oscar, as in the Oscar Awards Show. It is a time of pomp and circumstance when all of Hollywood comes out in their finery and regalia while "putting on the ritz". I sat in front of the television on Oscar night watching the beautiful couture gowns and the acceptance speeches. It conjured up memories of a time when my Granny and I would venture out to Garden Parties and Socials.

Going to the affairs were not difficult for me, it was the long wait for Granny to finish "tittivating" as they would say in Jamaica. In other words, my Granny was a "glamour puss" in her time. It would often take her several changes of hats, dresses and shoes before she actually felt satisfied with her fashion statement. Meanwhile, I had to sit there in my formal attire and not move an inch. You see, my Granny had a very strict rule about getting dressed up and acting like a lady.

There was no romping and carrying on allowed like a bull down at Maypen. Neither was there any idle banter allowed. I had to sit there like a young lady until she said it was time to depart. When Granny prepared you for an event, your job was to follow through, by being demure, spotless and feminine. You were expected to sit there and not even bat an eyelash. Thank goodness, in those days they had no scientific data on Attention Deficit Disorder because Granny would certainly have ruptured her aorta.

I was always very energetic and enthusiastic as a young child, so in grand Margaret fashion, I would pretend to help her get dressed, just so I could have an excuse to dawdle in her affairs. This however, did not sit well with Granny. Like many Jamaican parents, Granny would say, "If you don't sit down and behave yourself , I'm going to mek you tek off you shoes and socks and go straight to your bed. You understand me!"

I would say, "Yes Granny", and then try to entertain myself with the keys on the piano. Actually, my attempt to play Chopsticks would make her so agitated that she would eventually give in, and have me sit on her bed while she finished getting dressed. She figured, if she asked me to keep her company, I would refrain from getting my frock dirty. Depending how formal the occasion was, Granny tended to be more lenient. However, if it was a really fancy occasion, the requirements for her waiting time grew more stringent and came with severe consequences.

For instance, if you were going to a Ball or the Pantomime you had to sit on a chair in her parlour and not move a muscle until she said it was okay. If you disobeyed her wishes, you were in for a lashing, not from her, but from "the man" himself - Grandpa. Nobody wanted to wrangle with him.

Now that I look back at these times, I realize that my Granny should have been called "Teflon Granny", she gave you the warning, and if you didn't take heed, then she sent in "The Henchman". Grandpa, was always waiting in the wings to be the disciplinarian.

Well, as you can imagine at seven or eight years old, no child is perfect. There were times when I more than "pushed the envelope". Let's say I pushed the cart. On these occasions it was always time for me to get my "just desserts". Even when I was being punished it had to be fashionable, the Granny way. Granny had a little velvet, black belt with rhinestones, that she would give Grandpa to use to threaten us. I was usually so dazzled by the beauty of the belt that I somehow managed to regain my composure.

The fretting and nervousness that came before the showing of the belt prompted me to take preventative measures. Such as, rubbing green leaves all over my hands. My older cousins told me, "If you rub green bush and vaseline on your hands, lashings don't hurt. They just slide right off."

So as the younger, inexperienced cousin, I usually listened to their advice. Sometimes it worked and there were times I had to implement my own creativity. I always ended up getting my "good" clothes messy because I lathered with so much vaseline that you could see me shining from a mile away. After all that preparation, Granny would say, "I'm going to beg your Grandfather for you, but don't let me have to talk to you again. Alright?"

Then she called out to him, "Popsie, you can put away the belt now! I need it to wear with my dress for church on Saturday."

The cycle of emotions that followed anticipating a lashing, usually left me quite exasperated.There was not usually a need for me to be reprimanded again. Pavlov and Granny must have known each other in another lifetime, because that was her humble way of conditioning me to behave.

Although on one or two occasions I remember surpassing Granny's tolerance threshold. Granny had dressed me to go with her to a Garden party of the season. I couldn't resist playing with the stray dog that wondered onto the front porch. My locks became a bit disheveled from playing with the puppy, so I decided to make a few adjustments with the scissors. I had seen a commercial on T.V. and I wanted to mimic the actors. So I decided to play beautician and cut spiky bangs in the front of my hair. When I realized the error I had made. I glued the hair back in with scotch tape and bobby pins.

We were getting ready to leave the house when Granny stopped to straighten me up a bit, and my hair kept shredding in her hands. She kept saying, "Mags what is going on?"

I shrugged, "I don't know Granny, it must be from the puppy, you know how animals shed."

After a few good chunks Granny remarked, "Unless you had a sheep in the house this is not from a puppy shedding. What have you done?"

Granny was mortified that I had shorn my beautiful locks in the name of a commercial. This incidence gave a lot of meaning to the phrase, "Kids don't try this at home."

Needless to say, I never repeated that behavior again. I did manage to outsmart Granny and Grandpa before getting my lashes though. I made a replica of Granny's belt from craft paper. I colored it and made it just as descriptive as her original. The only difference was, that it was lightweight, extremely lightweight. I figured, my grandparents were getting older, they wouldn't know the difference. I think that was the only time I ever got away with it, because the next time I tried to be clever, they were one step ahead of me. They decided to use a ruler instead.

As I got older and accompanied Granny to more functions. Whenever I felt the need to say to Granny, "I can't stop fidgeting! You know Granny?"

Before I could even formulate the words, Granny would say, "Magsie, before you start fidgeting like you have blinkin ticks, please take the bible off the bureau and read it."

After a period of time my childish antics faded way and I became Granny's perfect Lady-in-waiting.

As I faded back to reality while watching the Oscars, I heard Jamie Foxx give a speech about his beloved Granny warning him about "Wilding Out". I felt glad to know that there are other no nonsense Grannies out there like mine.

The younger generation may not appreciate them now, but as they get older and go into the "real world", they will realize how invaluable the teachings of their grandparents really are. Jamie Foxx is the perfect example of what a Granny can do for you!

So,Granny and Granpa, if you're listening, "You'll be proud to know you can send me anywhere and not feel shame!"

*Dedicated to all the Oscar winners, with a special dedication to Jamie Foxx's Granny!