Older people who freely speak their mind are not anomalies. One generally exists in every family. As someone with only one (confirmed) living grandparent, though, the odds that that grandparent would happen to be the free-speaking type seemed a little bit tighter.
I should probably explain the “(confirmed)” comment, though. My mother’s parents were...not the best. Her mom ran out on the kids pretty early, and her dad took that as a sign that he should put all of his children into a group home. The state eventually had to intervene. He certainly wasn’t going to stop being a truck driver, so he married a Pentacostal woman who had pretty Draconian ideals when it came to child-rearing. I remember my mom speaking frankly about being beaten with a garden hose. I learned most of this when my mother explained to my why/how she got married at 15 and left that house for good.
I say “(confirmed)” because, technically, we have no idea whether my maternal grandmother is still alive. She was last seen in California somewhere. That’s literally all we know.
Now, in terms of my grandma who’s still around, well, life ain’t been no crystal stair. She has survived the death of a child and the suicide of a husband (from a second marriage). So, she’s definitely earned the brutal honesty that she has developed, and apparently I came around AFTER she chilled a bit.
Apparently, when my mom and dad got married, my mom brought my brother (from her first marriage) to a family event at my grandma’s. At some point, my brother (who must’ve been like eight years old) called my grandma “Grandma” to which she replied “I am NOT your grandma.” TO A CHILD! I mean, he was literally my dad’s red-headed stepchild, but still!
That was before my grandma had really given my mom a chance. She was not thrilled that my dad had chosen a woman who was already divorced and with a child older than his (because of course both of them already had a child). After time, she saw how freaking awesome my mom is. They are still incredibly close (like, daily visits close) despite my mom and dad divorcing 26 years ago.
Still, this is not atypical behavior. Once, she graciously accepted my partner and me into her home. As we were visiting, she clocked my plaid slip-on’s and said, “Nice shoes!” I was immediately flattered and effusively said, “THANK you, Grandma!” But she wasn’t done. She finished her interrupted compliment by saying “...the uglier the better nowadays, huh?”
She said it with a smile on her face. Like a villain from a Shonda Rhimes show! My boyfriend was taken aback and I was doubled-over laughing. She is likely the reason why half of my communication with loved ones involves dragging them and then waiting for them to clapback. Being made fun of is absolutely hilarious to me now. I had to straight up switch schools because a kid wouldn’t stop calling me gay in 6th grade, and my grandma’s solution was to drag my ass on the regular. And I’ll be damned if it didn’t work.
I’m not suggesting that this is the solution to harassment or bullying, but this skin is pretty think. I have one or two things that, if pressed, can get me in my feelings. Outside of those, it’s basically an all you can bash buffet. I’ll even help if you’re not getting there fast enough.
Now, at this point, I’ve painted with some pretty broad strokes, and it kind of appears like she only picks on her grandkids. Honestly? We’re the safe ones. You should hear some of the stuff she has to say about her own kids.
My father likes to get his way. If he doesn’t, he is super salty about it. He will make passive-aggressive comments FOR YEARS to express his dissatisfaction. This inevitably leads to his target snapping at some point, telling him what they think of him, and then him refusing to speak to the person(s) for...months? Years? He mixes it up.
This is the same man who, one year, just gave entirely up and wore swimming trunks to our Christmas dinner. I am from Southern Illinois and I have never known a Christmas warm enough to warrant less than a sweatshirt, much less swimwear. Why trunks!? I can kind of get shorts because white, country boys wear shorts during the winter all of the time around here for reasons unknown to the rest of us. But trunks? They had no functionality. My mom claims he had just outgrown all other clothes, like when Tim Allen wore sweats to work in The Santa Clause.
Grandma Garland was not going to stand for it. But she’s also a kind, smiley older lady, so she wasn’t going to make a stink at Christmas dinner. Instead, she individually spoke to everyone at the dinner and roasted him. Rolling her eyes, shaking her head, and gesticulating wildly, my grandmother spent a solid 90 minutes making the rounds letting everyone know how beguiled she was by her own son’s clothing. “I guess your dad’s gonna hop in the lake after this.”
Like most family meals, I spent most of the time trying to avoid my father because he had plenty of grievances he wanted to direct at me. “Glad to see you, son. It feels like it’s been a year since I’ve seen you.” Imagine, however, a dry tone and throw in the fact that it probably had been at least a year. Greetings like this are the warmest reception the man has to offer.
Hence my pure joy to hear my grandma take him to task. I yipped out a loud “Ha!” and high-fived my absolute favorite person in the room.
Some people probably have really sweet memories of their grandma teaching them to bake or reading them stories. I do not envy these people, though. I find the skills she imparted to me have way more value than something I could find on Pinterest.
No comments:
Post a Comment