Grandma and the Kiwi

You know how people always say you turn into your parents? Well, I seem to be skipping a generation. I never really feared turning into my parents cuz I always thought they were pretty nifty (in their own right). However, the older I get, the more I realize I'm turning, not into my mother, but my grandmother.

What makes this worse is that while my grandmother was alive.... I didn't think she was a very good person. However, what I realize now is that there were things about my grandmother that I didn't understand then because I wasn't old enough to.

The thing that bothered me most about my grandmother was how she treated the grandchildren of her husband, my (technically) step-grandfather. You see, my grandfather passed away before I was born. My grandmother remarried a wonderful man who had children and grandchildren of his own. So although technically my mother was an only child, I have lots of cousins on my mother's side. One of which is my own age.

When it came to gift giving in my grandmother's household, there was definitely a distinction on whose child or grandchild the recipient was. I remember one year (about 5th or 6th grade) my cousin coming to up to me and asking me what Grandma had given me for Christmas. I think I had gotten some clothes and toys and even some money. I asked my cousin what she had gotten. Footed pajamas. She was less than thrilled.

I once asked about this, because it really upset me that, even though technically I was on the winning side of this argument, my cousins weren't treated the same as I or my brother. I was told "Grandpa doesn't have as much money as Grandma." I never understood this statement. And I guess I always kind of held it against her.

After my grandmother passed, I did some pretty heavy reflection. I realized that, despite the inequality, my grandmother was actually a very loving, giving person. I also realized that when I had gone to my grandmother's house for holidays, we were always there, but my cousins weren't. And a lot of the time, my grandmother and grandfather were a bit upset about the fact that they weren't there. It wasn't, however, until relatively recently that I realized just how wrong I was about my grandmother.

My mother had found some old photos. She was looking at them and showing them to me and she recalled a story I had never, in all my 36 years, heard. She told me how, when my grandfather had passed away, my grandmother didn't leave the house for a full year. Which was strange, since my grandmother had been a very social person until my grandfather passed. Eventually, however, my mother convinced my grandmother to start leaving the house, at least a little bit, and realize there was still life left to live without my grandfather.

So my grandmother began going to a local bar which was tended by a woman who, apparently, had fancied herself to be a bit of a matchmaker. The woman asked my grandmother about herself and eventually told my grandmother she had a gentleman she'd like my grandmother to meet. This gentleman ended up being the man I knew to be Grandpa. My grandmother agreed to meet with him and after a couple of dates, introduced him to my mother. The next day, apparently, my grandmother had excitedly called my mother to see what she thought of this new beau.

My mother told my grandmother she thought he was very nice. My grandmother then said, "He wants to marry me." My mother, being the young know-it-all that all 20-somethings are, told my grandmother, "Ma, you're in your 40's. What are you waiting for?" So they were married within a few months of meeting each other. They were married for 30-some years when my grandmother passed away.

As my mother was telling me this, she said, "You know, your Grandpa was a lonely man before he met Ma. He had lost his wife. And his kids never visited. He just wanted someone to live his life with. And he found it in Ma." In that moment, I finally understood why my grandmother made such a distinction between my Grandpa's kids and grandchildren and my mother and our family. And I felt like such shit for being as angry with my grandmother as I had been most of my life and sad that she was no longer around to apologize to.

At this point, you're probably wondering.... What the HECK does all of that have to do with a kiwi? Nothing.

THE KIWI:

I was a teenager, probably about 16, 17, maybe even 18. Every time we went to visit my Grandma's house, she was always getting up, asking if we wanted something to drink, eat, eat or eat. One day, she was being particularly obnoxious, and wouldn't let up. The conversation went something like this:

Grandma: Do you want something to drink?
Me: No.
Grandma: How about something to eat?
Me: No. I'm not hungry, Grandma.
Grandma: Are you sure? I've got lots of stuff.
Me: I'm fine, Grandma. Thanks.
Grandma: Are you sure I can't get you ANYTHING? What do you want? Whatever you want, I'll bet I've got it. Go ahead. Name anything.

I thought about this for a moment, trying to think of something she couldn't, wouldn't, POSSIBLY have.

Me: A kiwi.
Grandma: I've got one of those!!!!

She went in her refrigerator and sure as shit, she had a kiwi. Just one. On a plate. Fresh as can be. It was like freaking magic.

My grandmother looked at me and said, "I don't even know why I have this. I've never tried kiwi before. What does it taste like?"

Dumbfounded, I looked at my grandmother and said, "I have no idea. I've never had one either. I was kidding."

I then spent the next 1/2 hour explaining to my grandmother that I didn't, in fact, actually want a kiwi. That I never in a million years had expected her to have a kiwi. And no, I really didn't want the freaking kiwi.

I've always wondered what happened to the kiwi.....

And you know what else? I've still never eaten kiwi. I don't think my grandmother ever did either.

Tonight my mother told me my grandfather died 42 years ago. On December 10th. She went on about how he would have loved us kids. I don't know.... I think my grandmother did enough loving for them both. And my Grandpa, he wasn't too shabby himself.

I was very lucky. I have a wonderful family. Even if I didn't realize it at the time. The point is this..... a) Don't hold a grudge about something you don't understand; b) Tell your family you love them even if you don't think you mean it at the time; and c) Never... ever... ask for a kiwi if you don't really want one.

Diet Window not available in wintertime

You know, I'm so completely and utterly politically correct, that I would never call someone a "Window Licker"..... to their face.

Ex-Roommie reminded me of a story from a few months back, thought I'd share:

It was shortly after my neck surgery and ex-roommie was driving me somewhere. I was all hopped up on pain pills and making my usual snarky commentary. When I went to pretend to lick the windows, I realized there was something wrong.... The window was rolled down. Without missing a beat, I looked at ex-roommie and said, "Tastes different. Must be diet window."

This story was brought back to mind by another story.....

Went to my brother's house this past weekend to celebrate the nephew's birthday. SIL was going on about how she got one of those blow-up Frosty The Snowman's for the the front yard for her birthday. So naturally, I said, "As long as it doesn't end up like the one I pass every day on my way to work. I THINK it's supposed to be a football player in a Packer uniform, but it's a bit wilted and the way it's bent over and flopping around, now it just looks like a mentally deficient person having a head-butting fight with the ground and losing." Nobody laughed. My SIL's family doesn't have my sense of humor.