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Cool Grandparents
(From the July/August 2004 issue of Homecoming Magazine)
 

People are having kids late these days. David Letterman just fathered his first child at 57. That's too old! If the parent population keeps aging, one day we'll go to Little League and there'll be nothing but handicap parking! It's hard to do double-dutch jump rope with your child while wearing an oxygen hose. By the time your kids are out of diapers, you'll be in 'em. Okay, okay. Enough already! But, if you have children that late in life, there's a good chance they'll never know their grandparents. And every kid ought to know his grandparents. Especially if they're as wonderful as mine. I was blessed. I had cool grandparents and I knew all four of them.

National Grandparents Day "In 1970, a West Virginia housewife, Marian Lucille Herndon McQuade, initiated a campaign to set aside a special day just for Grandparents. In 1978, the United States Congress passed legislation proclaiming the first Sunday after Labor Day as National Grandparents Day. The proclamation was signed by President Jimmy Carter. (September was chosen for the holiday, to signify the 'autumn years' of life. Today this event, begun by only a few, is observed by millions throughout the United States." Click here to learn more about National Grandparents Day.

Grandma and Grandpa were my dad's parents. They were reserved but down to earth. Grandma was a great cook and loved her grandchildren. Grandpa was shorter than Grandma. They reminded me of 'Ma and Pa Kettle'. Grandpa had a sixth grade education and still brought in enough income to raise six children. He loved to read his Bible in the bathroom. He said it had the best light.

Grandma was a Republican and Grandpa was a Democrat. Grandma would always drive them to the polls. (Grandpa didn't drive because he only had one eye.) Every election day, they would go and cancel each other's vote. I told them if they'd just stay home they would accomplish the same thing.

Grandma believed in enemas. She always had an enema bag hanging from the shower rod on 'standby'. She thought an enema would cure anything. And, sometimes, it did. But, a stumped toe? A toothache? Depression? You had to be careful not to let Grandma know you were feeling puny or she'd end up chasing you around the house with that enema bag thrown over her shoulder, screaming, "Come here, bend over, you'll feel better."

Nanny & Paw Paw were my mom's parents. They were a musical bunch. Paw Paw was a great singer. He always sang the tenor part in the quartet at church. That's where I get my big chin ... from Paw Paw. It was my inheritance, like a family heirloom - passed down from generation to generation.

Nanny had a scar on her leg. It was a scar that looked like something you'd find on Frankenstein, on the front of her leg from her knee to her ankle - a long line with a string of dots, made from archaic stitching procedures, running down each side of it.

I loved to hear her tell 'the scar story'.

She would say, "I was on a step ladder. Painting the outside of the house in June of '58." (It was the same month and year I was born, which made the story much more interesting to me.)

I would stare at the scar on Nanny's leg, thinking, "That scar is as old as I am," while she told me the same story she had told me many times before. I don't know if she would forget she had already told me or if she liked telling it as much as I enjoyed hearing it.

I especially loved the climax of the story: "I lost my balance, fell off the ladder and my shin-bone broke through the skin," her pitch rising as she got to the 'broke through the skin' part.

I would always wince, grab my shin and freak-out at this point and ask her how bad it hurt and how long it took Paw Paw to get her to the hospital and was there a lot of blood?

Cool grandparents don't try to hide their scars. Nanny always crossed her legs with the scarred one on top for all to see. It was a trophy, a battle scar, a great conversation piece. And I thought it was cool.

So, I said all that to say this, have your kids by 30, your grandkids by 60. That way, they will know their grandparents and you'll still have enough energy to chase them around the house with an enema bag thrown over your shoulder.

See ya,
Mark

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