Grammy never speaks to me for more than one minute, thirty-seven seconds. I never really figured out why. Even when I ask her, the answers always seem dodgy, which pretty much defines her character. I love the woman, talking on the phone to her grandson will never be her forte.
What is great though, is in that minute to a minute and a half she can cut me to the core. She can extract a concern, issue, doubt or problem that I am ignoring during the call (do you have a girlfriend? are you going to Law School? did you get a haircut? are you telling your parents the truth?) . Hell, she can pull that off and tell me about her day, a neighbor, Pop-pop, my Uncle Burt and Aunt Dot and even ask about my sister and be done before a show comes back from commercial. It is actually an art, I don’t know anyone who can accomplish this and still have people want to call them.
In all seriousness, Grammy has been a great influence in my life. If for nothing else, here is a woman who still sees my mom as a child. As a rather brat-ish boy, it is always powerful to see that everyone deals with suspected lunatic of a mother. (though I can make claims that at one point or another we had just cause to have both of the matriarchs of my family committed to an insane asylum…but that may just be the snotty little boy-child talking). They get along in the same way that I get along with my mom (sometimes), the same arguments and frustrations abound in their relationship…it shows that evolution takes more than 2 generations too!
I may be 27, but I will never be ashamed to call her Grammy. I realized how odd that my post would have such a casual reference. Not, my grandmother or my mother’s-mother, or even Muriel. Nope, she is and forever will be Grammy and I hope in her eyes I will always be that adorable little boy (about 12 hours before I uttered my first word…I think that was the high-point of my existence, cute and mute…).
Grammy may be a bit ill. I got some word today from my mom that she may be sick. It is incredibly sad. I have no real idea what it is, how serious it is, what we are even really talking about. I am the last to find these kinds of things out and I am never told details…I think internally my family hates telling me these things — I am the dramatic, sensitive one. These things don’t go over well with me…I worry.
But instead of dwelling on the sadness, the confusion, the fear and everything else that ought to be plaguing my head (okay, my dog just started bobbing her head to Stevie Wonder’s harmonica solo during “For Once in My Life“…adorable!), I will focus on the brighter side of life and the immense joy that has resulted from my relationship with Grammy.
I mean, can you understate the incredibly cool notion that when I was 19 and visiting my grandmother one spring that she turned to my sister and I, during a commercial break from Jerry Springer, and said, “the first time I ever saw a porno was in your father’s house. I think he left it in the player.”? No matter who says something like that, regardless if it is from an 80-something year old Jewish lady from Providence, RI, it is priceless. Still funny to this day.
My grandmother’s art pervaded my entire existence. I don’t think I have ever realized how much art of hers has been in my parent’s house, my sister’s house and in my house. I know there is plenty just lying around too. I had to barter with my sister to get “the mushroom oil painting” about 3 years ago. I think I got her down to a ceramic dish and one from the ‘ribbon’ series…I can’t remember…either way, I have a pretty good feeling that the mushrooms will be displayed in my home for many, many years.
At my grandfather’s funeral last spring, when he passed just moments before my entire family (which consists of my parents and grandparents) were to fly out to Denver for Passover with my sister, brother and I, Grammy turned to me and said something to the effect of, “Leave it to your Pop-up to do this right before a trip…he knew I was leaving.” In no way were we dealing with a tragedy (Pop-pop was 94 and lived an complete existence), but her ability to create levity (and reinforce her dominion over the poor guy…and rest of us) will forever astound me.
I have always wished I was able to completely capture the existence of others. Document ad nauseum the beings that have left us. There is such depth to life, and when we look back on it, we only get a miniscule portion to call ‘memory’. Even in our own lives if we were asked to encapsulate them for the annals of history, how much would we actually recall? What would we leave the world with even if we had the opportunity to decide what was important to us.? What we leave behind that is completely forgotten is more than the combined memories of all who know us…I think that just blew my mind a bit.
This is not a morbid post. This is not an intent to lay out a sentence for Grammy. Sometimes it only takes a short phone call to incite thoughts and emotions that ought to be heeded. I think a lot of times we are too busy to let our emotions wash over us. We are constantly, emotionally adapting to the world around us. Here was a chance for me to spend some time writing about my Grammy, who as much as she plays an active part in my life and played a large role in my entire existence, may never have been mentioned here.
That didn’t/doesn’t seem fair. It isn’t fair. This is an incredibly important person, influence, family member.She taught me now to make her a 7 and 7 when I was barely the sum of the two ingredients!
Need I say more?
