© Happiness Happens
Somewhere in West Tennessee, not far from Graceland, nine women -- or "The 9 Nanas," as they prefer to be called -- gather in the darkness of night. At 4am they begin their daily routine -- a ritual that no one, not even their husbands, knew about for 30 years. They have one mission and one mission only: to create happiness. And it all begins with baked goods.
"One of us starts sifting the flour and another washing the eggs," explained Nana Mary Ellen, the appointed spokesperson for their secret society. "And someone else makes sure the pans are all ready. We switch off, depending on what we feel like doing that day.
"But you make sure to say Nana Pearl is in charge, because she's the oldest!" she added with a wink and a smile.
Over the next three hours, The 9 Nanas (who all consider themselves sisters, despite what some of their birth certificates say) will whip up hundreds of pound cakes, as part of a grand scheme to help those in need. And then, before anyone gets as much as a glimpse of them, they'll disappear back into their daily lives. The only hint that may remain is the heavenly scent of vanilla, lemon and lime, lingering in the air.
Even the UPS driver, who picks up hundreds of packages at a time, has no clue what these women, who range in age from 54 to 72, are doing. He's just happy to get a hug and a bag filled with special treats. What he doesn't know is that he's part of their master plan. A plan that began 35 years ago -- when the "sisters" got together for their weekly card game -- something their husbands referred to as "Broads and Bridge."
"Pearl says it was all her idea," Mary Ellen teased, "but as I remember it, we were sitting around reminiscing about MaMaw and PaPaw and all the different ways they would lend a hand in the community." MaMaw and PaPaw are the grandparents who raised four of the women, Mary Ellen included, when their mother passed away; and they took in Pearl as their own, when her parents needed some help.
"MaMaw Ruth would read in the paper that someone had died," Mary Ellen remembered, "and she'd send off one of her special pound cakes. She didn't have to know the family. She just wanted to put a little smile on their faces. And we started thinking about what we could do to make a difference like that. What if we had a million dollars? How would we spend it?
So the ladies began brainstorming.
"One of the sisters suggested that we should all start doing our own laundry and put the money we saved to good use. I admit, I protested at first. There's just something about laundering that I don't like. But I was outnumbered! So among the nine of us, we'd put aside about $400 a month and our husbands never noticed a thing. Their shirts looked just fine."
And then the women started listening. They'd eavesdrop -- all with good intentions, of course -- at the local beauty shop or when they were picking up groceries. And when they heard about a widow or a single mom who needed a little help, they'd step in and anonymously pay a utility bill or buy some new clothes for the children.