Shades of purple: A story of nuclear weapons and my grandma’s work ethic

She had been waiting for us in the foyer when my dad and I pulled up to pick her up for breakfast. She saw our car and walked out. Well, she budged her way out while balancing the door, a walker and—at 91—her natural instability. (“I’ve got it!” she barked at me when I went to grab the door for her.) My grandma, Lenore Spear, was adorned in varying shades of her favorite color: purple. Lavender shoes, purple pants in a geometric pattern, a purple shirt, a purple overshirt jacket with a faint floral pattern, purple and silvery jewelry, and—you’re not going to believe me but—purple hair. 

(Side note: Grandma was quite upset with me the day before when I didn’t acknowledge her purple hair. I should know better by now that when someone on my dad’s side of the family is trying to put on a show, you damn well better give them some applause.) 

As soon as she got in the car, my grandma handed me her phone and said, “Okay, tell him we’re on our way and to set up a table for six.” I had texted the owner of her favorite breakfast spot in town, Snooty Pig Cafe.

It turned out the owner of the restaurant wasn’t working that day. But, being the kind of place located in a strip mall in a far-out Dallas suburb, and with a menu using Papyrus and classic-car-inspired fonts, they had plenty of room for us on a Saturday morning.

She probably won’t admit it, but my grandma is hard of hearing. And she doesn’t use a hearing aid. So that means if you want to include her in conversations, or even just want her to feel included, you need to be cognizant of how you speak. I try to speak to her with my volume turned up just a smidge—like my loudest inside voice. I certainly don’t yell; that will just piss her off. And I make sure to annunciate my words and not mumble. 

But at breakfast that morning, no one was following these simple rules and my grandma was looking pretty lonely and quiet while slowly eating her migas. I was only in town for the weekend and wanted to cherish my time with her. I briefly observed the matriarch of our family sitting next to me, wondering how she must feel in this moment, wondering what it feels like to be 91, wondering what she thinks of her own life, her legacy. And then my wonderings just spilled out of my mouth.

“Grandma, what are you most proud of accomplishing in your life?” I asked her, turning in my seat. The rest of the table turned their attention to us. 

I wondered if she might say something about her career. She had worked at the Texas Welfare Department supporting adoption services and neglected children; she was a young adult programs director at the YWCA; and she was a volunteer director for both the American Cancer Society and the American Red Cross. So I know she had worked some cool jobs, but her answer still surprised me. “Being a really strong employee and doing really good work.”

My internal knee-jerk reaction was “Oh gosh! The chokehold that capitalism has on us all! Aren’t we more than our jobs?!” Hahaha, but I knew she had more to say. I asked “How did you become that kind of person — someone who was really great at their job?” Her answer, again, was simple and very matter of fact: “The way my daddy raised me to stick up for myself.”

Being the curious person that I am, I wasn’t really satisfied by this answer. I wanted to move beyond the platitudes and learn something new about my grandma. So I asked, “What kind of adversity did you face in your career that made you feel like you needed to stick up for yourself?”

And that’s when she dropped a bombshell of a story onto me. My grandma had spent the last 38 years of her career working at Pantex, the US government’s primary nuclear weapons assembly and disassembly facility. (“Bombshell?” Pun intended.) But in 1966, after less than seven years at the plant, she became the center of a labor dispute that eventually became case law for the National Labor Relations Board.

Here’s the gist of what happened:

• Literally two minutes after the lunch hour, my grandma, the plant union’s recording secretary, passed an envelope to a colleague, who was a member of the union’s membership committee.
• A supervisor witnessed this and reported it to the foreman. The foreman then searched the colleague’s desk when he was away (rude). He found the envelope, which contained a list of union members (shocking).
• The foreman escalated this to a labor manager and a division manager (petty), who interrogated my grandma and her colleague, and then searched my grandma’s desk and confiscated additional union paperwork.
• My grandma was “officially reprimanded” on her employee record, and her colleague was given a warning, on the grounds that they were conducting union business on company time.

But remember: Her daddy taught her to stick up for herself! 

The union took Pantex to court, arguing [1] the company’s no-solicitation rule was too broad to ensure workers’ right to unionize; [2] the company reprimanding my grandma and her colleague was unjustified due to existing national labor policies for fostering collective bargaining and for exercising individual rights; and [3] the company’s actions were rooted in anti-union feelings rather than maintaining plant production and order. In court, my grandma said she ended up giving a 2-hour and 45-minute testimony, and the judge ruled in the union’s favor. When Pantex appealed, the case went to the 5th Circuit US Court of Appeals, where she won again. 

The case took about two years, and she continued to work at Pantex until she retired 29 years later. Naturally, I’m shaking in my boots at the thought of suing an employer (but I also have zero concept of what it’s like to be in a union). I imagine after something like this… well, wouldn’t things be awkward?? I asked her, “So, what happened after the case was closed?” She said, “I continued to do great work. And the administration knew not to mess with me; they knew I was someone worth respecting.”

My grandma deserves a big round of applause. 

She maintained the confidence and belief in herself that her father had instilled in her. That’s an accomplishment in its own right. What’s more, though, is how her work ethic and values have trickled down to the rest of her family. And, even if purple isn't my color, I would be proud, too.