Over the River and Through the woods…

This is a song about going to grandfather’s for thanksgiving… but in my family it was always Grandma’s house, even though Grandpa was living.

Now in fairness, the basement was the MAN domain and grandma only ventured there to pull buns or cake out of the freezer, but overall I would say that my Gram ruled the roost. And while we all knew this underlying truth of matriarchal familial ruling, we all pretended that Grandpa was the final word… that is until he passed away last year on the 4^th of July.

This past week my phone rang and Grandma said, without a hint of flinching, “So when are you coming?” She meant get your butt up here soon and I was not confused by the politeness of the question or the tone of her voice. She is very clear about all things in her life.

She makes me laugh in ways now that I never would have thought in growing up with her as my Grandma. She was so formal, so proper and now she is so… well… sarcastic, and prone to little nip-like comments that seem innocent from her small old woman face. Don’t let the grandma looks fool you, she is one sharp and tough cookie. She told me this year that she had considered leaving her rambling rambler for an apartment, but as she walked around the house she thought that if she could take care of my grandpa and the house for all these years, certainly she could manage just the house. After seeing her deftly stun people around her into doing things for her I am confident that she has this delegation thing under control. The kicker is that they are glad to do it; so masterful is her “direction”. She asks for things in a way that makes you want to offer to do whatever you can for her. That refrigerator delivery kid did not stand a chance in getting out of there without dragging the old freezer up from the basement.

I used to think that my mom was the master of manipulation and guilt, but now I can clearly see that my Grandma is the Yoda-like sage my mother learned from.

Case in point, as I write this my dad is under her bathroom sink. He’s been under there all day. She’s been hinting she wanted it replaced to match the tub she had painted this year.

There are many things about my grandmother that I could write about, including her relationships, her work ethic, her Margaret-isms. She is a brilliant, self actualized and lively woman. She doesn’t craft and she makes no bones about it. Baking is a duty not a passion. She is a master book keeper and the ruler of numbers, dates, times and directions in general. She is a modern day grandma. My affection for her goes beyond obligatory love and respect; I admire her. I enjoy her. I value her. I’m so grateful to have the opportunity to know my grandmother as an adult. There is so much about her that was completely lost on me as a child.

As I look at how people manage in times of trouble or heartache it is her that I look to for guidance. She is the one who has figured it out. She has shown me by example that if you don’t get on living you are just getting on dying.

So, at 86 years old she is updating her house, dressing in cute little trendy jackets, having her jewelry redone and updated and making decisions that show she is planning on being here for awhile…

and enjoying herself why she’s doing it. She will not settle for less.

Viva North Dakota!! Those new potatoes are just grand!!!

Says me.