My Gramma Ethel taught me to cast a fishing line, how to play double solitaire, how to make hospital corners when making the bed, and how to fold the sheet down "just so" over the top blanket. When I spent the night we'd almost always go to Kentucky Fried Chicken for a bucket. I liked it best the following day when she'd make us KFC sandwiches with the leftover chicken on Wonder Bread with mayo. She liked next day green salad sandwiches. I could never bring myself to try that one.
She was a strong, sometimes harsh task master, but she was also honest and true, and a born adventurer. Her and my Grampa George lived across the street from us when I was small, and on Christmas morning we'd have to wait for them to get there before we could even look at the tree. I didn't like that part. She'd make kickass fudge and huge platters of other Christmas goodies though, I did like that part.
One of the stories I think is funniest is about their bird, George, who was named after my Grampa George. He said things like "put your head down" when he wanted his neck scratched, and "peter, peter, pumpkin eater" for reasons I'm not sure of. The funny story is, one day he outed my Gram about what was really happening behind closed doors. We were visiting, and suddenly George the bird started saying something new..."go to hell George, go to hell George"...
I used to listen to them talk about their journeys into the desert, where they'd trailer camp, and meet up with friends. It was those stories that inspired the life I live.
She also would send me letters wherever I was living, and I still have them all. My friends came to look forward to them as much as I did. She was very detail oriented. Sometimes so much so that she'd simply send me a bullet-pointed list. She always made sure to include if there was salt and pepper on the table if describing a gathering, or how many white cars they passed on their current trip.
I think she was 93, I know she was born the year that women got the vote. She lived on her own for over 15 years, up until she had a heart attack a few years ago and moved into a home. She lived alone all that time, in spite of the fact that she'd been declared legally deaf, and legally blind almost from the start. She had people who came in to teach her how to do things without sight and sound. She called me one day to tell me I'd been crossing the street all wrong my entire life. She also would get in her little motor cart, orange flag waving overhead, and truck around town. How? Dunno. Determination. Sheer resolve. I think I got a lot of my strength from her.
I'm sure there's so much more but those are the things coming to mind at the moment. I last saw her a week or so ago and knew it wouldn't be long. She was disoriented, and laughed about it. I sat across from her, holding her hands in mine, and thought, "I love you Gram, thank you for everything". I'm so glad I did that.
Grampa George passed right before Sean was born, 20 years ago this Thanksgiving, so he's been waiting for Gram for a long time. I miss you both. I love you.
