Grandma and Grandpa

GRANDPA

My grandfather used to live in Chicago, back in the day. He was a virtuoso accordion player, and he used to play at clubs for Johnny Dillinger and the other Chicago gangsters. When I was a child, oh, the stories he'd tell, late nights over his whiskey. He was quite an alcoholic, but a lovable and festive one. We'd sing "Roll Out The Barrel" as he pushed the keys, squeezed the bellows, and regaled us with tales of Al Capone and Tommy guns. That only lasted til the day my mother came running down the street in a panic after having confiscated Grandpa's gun rack. He was drunk and pissed off and threatening to shoot everyone in the neighborhood with his deer rifles.

After that, my grandmother mono-Prohibitioned him to non-alcoholic beer, the only one available back then in the early 80s being "Zing." We'd go to the grocery store, and my grandpa would dutifully and penitentially place a six-pack of Zing in the cart. When my grandma turned her back later to examine the crusty breads, my grandfather, with a conspiratorial wink in my direction, would whisk the Zing out of the cart and hide it behind the English muffins, quickly replacing it with the six-pack of Old Milwaukee he had been secreting behind his back. My grandma didn't notice and I never told (who can resist the power of Grandpa's wink?), but all of the cashiers at Jim's had been warned--Grandma knew he was a tricky fellow--and would alert her as they were ringing up the pulpy orange juice and Rice Krispies I would have later for my breakfast after church. He never got away with it, but he tried every time. I always admired him for his persistence in achieving his goals.

GRANDMA

Every time I talk to my grandmother, she asks me what I want of hers "because I won't be around too much longer." Then she goes around her house putting sticky notes on stuff so that when she dies, we'll know who it goes to.

Generally, I change the subject and start asking about her drinking problem, which doesn't really exist. "Grandma, are you drunk again?" I ask. Then she gets mad at me and says, "Oh, you! You know I don't drink!" And I say, "Granny, you know I'm just kidding!" But let me tell you, I have seen that woman guzzle down some brandy & cokes. When we are visiting my aunt she is always the first to suggest a cocktail while we chat in the bright afternoon sunlight.

I dedicated my dissertation to my grandma. She quit school when she was 16 to marry my grandpa and run away from home, but got her GED when she was in her 60s. She's so much fun. She called and told me about this vase she bought at a rummage sale that had holes and protrusions of various shapes and sizes. She said, "I thought it was just the neatest thing, and I was thinking of how the flowers would stick out in all sorts of directions. . .Then I realized that it isn't a vase, it's a sculpture of a penis and a vagina!"

I am not making this up. I called up the stairs to my boyfriend after she said this and said, "Ed, my grandma just said penis and vagina! What the hell am I supposed to do here?" She laughed and told me she'd put a sticky note on it for me.