Sh*t my grandma says


Sh*t my grandma says

For my second installment…

I was at a Charcuterie bar in South Bend, Indiana (Tapastrie- you MUST go) talking birthdays when the subject of my 102&1/2 year-old grandma came up.

I had been thinking of her a lot reading “Social Security Strategies”. One of the MOST IMPORTANT calculi is the age to which you think you’ll live. More on that in a future post.

“You are all BABIES!” I could hear her say to the men who were lamenting about recent birthdays:

“I’m 40 plus shipping and handling!”

Albeit at a bar and several Wodka drinks with sugarfree Tang later (oh! the horror!), I decided I HAD to call Gramma.

She was at my fingertips, for Godsakes.

I fed olives to my husband “Body of Christ…now get yeR champagne..’Blood of Heaven'”.

Uh oh.

Blasfer me….
Blasfer you…
Blasfer everybody in the room…
(Eddie Izzard)

My husband made a bolt of lightning sound over my head.

“Oh, c’mon, God has a GREAT sense of humour,” I quipped.

“Where do ya tink I get MYNE for Lords sake?” (in Irish accent).

Where was I?…


Grandma said “Well, I was just reading before bed, you know..”

Me:”Oh, what book are you reading?…” I asked, wanting to connect and not let her know I was a bit “sheets”, though I suspect she knew ;).

Grandma: “Weeeell, I don’t remember! Ha-ha! (More gigghly ‘teee hee’) I just picked up somethin’ in the middle, like you do, and started reading to see if I like it.”

Me: “I totally get that! (Not wanting to warn her about ‘Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenence’ or ‘Tess of the D’Urbervilles’). We’re going to Rock Island for genealogy!”

Gramma: “Well, now that is so SUPER that you have picked that up.” (The family story).

Ok, so her mother-in-law is perhaps buried there, but life/death, meh there you are.

I wish I could have known these ancestors. They are descended from the French Hugenots who fled France for being Protestant. They came to America to save their lives and many lives long, long lives too 100 or nearly there in the 1600 & 1700’s.

I have so many questions.

“Was Great Gramma Addie nice? Did she struggle with speaking French too?…Was she funny?”

We persist, really, in the DNA of relatives. I look a lot like my Swedish grandmother and have my dad’s silly sense of humor, which comes from Gramma of this story. My niece and I both have the same mannerisms, voice and laugh. My nephew and I have the same kindness and love of science.

“I LOVE you Gramma! I’m gonna put Mr. W on now (to his surprise).”

He’s such a good sport.

Mr. W: “Ok..Oh yes, she tells me where to go and we go- tomorrow, Oquawka, where Norma Jean the circus elephant, was struck by lighting in 1972.”

Mr. W:”I’m giving you back to her now…”

Me: “I LOVE you Gramma!”

Grandma:”I love you too!”

Life is funny and weird and happy and sad.

Call your Gramma, you’ll be glad you did.


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