How I came to appreciate my grandparents by Jacky Carter
When I moved into the basement of my house last summer, I quickly realized the two silvers of windows weren't going to provide much light. My roommate, Natalie, affectionately called my new space a dungeon and repeatedly suggested mass amounts of lamps to improve my bedroom bleakness.
My grandparents had given me an old lamp of theirs the previous summer, and I thought my chances were good that they still had a couple more around their house. I promptly sent my grandma an e-mail explaining the situation.
My grandma — compared to the rest of her generation — is exceptionally computer savvy. She knows how to use America Online, type travel itineraries in Word and keeps in touch with extended family though e-mail. She e-mails me health warnings, safety tips for women or to ask if I can make it to a family dinner. But my grandma is also self-admittedly scatterbrained, so I didn't know what kind of response my inquiry would elicit.
The next afternoon Grandma had replied. Her conversations ranged from my cousin's nanny who had just gotten engaged to what she had accomplished that day to a woman named Penny who was having an open house. Although my grandmother wrote about Penny with the familiarity reserved for a close friend, I had never heard of her before.I felt bad that I didn't know Penny;she was going to set aside some items ahead of time especially for our family.That's quite nice of her,I
thought as I read my grandma's e-mail, but I still have no idea who Penny is.
The following day, my grandmother wrote me again, realizing she hadn't directly answered my lamp question. Not only did my grandparents have a couple of lamps they no longer used, they would buy some for me too.My grandma wrote that they were trying to downsize in preparation for their move to a retirement community, so it worked out well that I needed them.
I knew the lamps would be far from fashionable though. My grandfather volunteers at a Catholic Charities thrift store called TurnStyles every week. He takes great pride in his role as a pricing specialist, determining the worth of other people's junk. He's almost as good of an employee as he is a customer, so I knew he'd be happy to find a few treasures at TurnStyles to share with me.
My grandma had to enact a rule that my grandpa had to stop — or at least minimize — his thrift store purchases. One time my grandpa was estimating the value of rug. He thought the rug was beautiful (yes, he had told us about the new inventory at TurnStyles) and priced it accordingly. People should pay good money for a good rug, he thought, even if it is at a thrift store. The manager thought Grandpa had marked it too high. My grandpa lowered the price. Then he bought the rug. He's also bought a new dining room cabinet, artwork, a lamp with a base of Catholic saints extending into midair
(it's something you have to see to believe) and other items my grandma loathes to see him drag home. She didn't appreciate that he was adding to their belongings when they were trying to minimize their possessions. In the end, Grandpa donates their original, newer furniture back to TurnStyles. As far as I know, he's never purchased his own donations.
She got out carrots and sesame seed sticks, a combination I hadn't seen since third grade. My sister and I had always looked forward to eating the snack when we visited. As I sat across from my grandma, I couldn't remember the last time the two of us had been alone together.
Three days after my original e-mail, the lamp situation was figured out. My grandpa had picked up two for me. The only condition? I had to personally pick them up the next time I was back home.I stopped by my grandparents' house the following day.
As soon as I entered the house, my grandma attended to me."Do you want a ham sandwich?" she asked. "Actually?..." yes.
She scurried around the kitchen — like she does for family gatherings — to set up a place for me at the table. Any time I tried to get something for myself, she told me to sit down because she could get it. I was 22 at the time, self-sufficient and wasn't used to someone taking care of me.
Before I left, I loaded the lamps in my car — a black clip-on desk lamp, a two-foot gold
lamp that almost looks modern (my favorite of the bunch) and a towering base with an eagle in the middle, topped off with a $100 lampshade. Certainly nothing I'd pick out myself, but I appreciated their donations.
As I drove back to Lawrence, I thought about how my grandparents had always been active in my life. From attending elementary school sporting events when I was cheerleading to stopping by my parents' house nearly every Sunday after church, my grandparents have made it a point to stay close with family. But when I was in high school, I had always felt put off by their visits, having to drop what I was doing to sit and talk in the living room. Didn't they know I had a dramatic episode of MTV's Real World/Road Rules Challenge to watch?
I'm embarrassed to think of how annoyed I was to have to attend another family dinner. My grandparents have hosted nearly every birthday and holiday celebration for as long as I can remember. Nearly 20 people crowd the kitchen, sneaking honey baked ham and garlic bread before Grandma's official announcement that it's time to eat.
The younger cousins run around the house, chasing the dogs and looking for toys that aren't a decade old. My grandma frantically moves around the kitchen as though she'll run out of time to organize the silverware, warm the pie and brew more tea.
Grandpa, who has quite the sense of humor, often says grace. Most of the time it's the typical "Thank you for our
family and the food and the blessings in our lives" kind of stuff. Sometimes, though, he likes to ad lib. One grace he asked God to help me find a nice Catholic boy. This was after I'd just left for college and made the mistake of telling them I hadn't been to church yet. It wasn't exactly thrilled that I had made the trip from Lawrence only to have my grandfather call on holy powers to find me a companion. So far, his prayer is unanswered.
As I get older, I realize that I'm fortunate to still have my grandparents around — and interested in my life — even if they show their love in ways I don't always appreciate. My grandma recently sent me an e-mail asking how she could register on Kansan.com. She had read my article about left-handedness and wanted to post a comment online. How many students can say their grandma does that?
No matter where the family gatherings will be, I'll always have my eclectic thrift store lamps and scatterbrained e-mails as a reminder of my grandparents.
My grandparents are getting their lives in order for the big move to a retirement community, something my mom and I aren't excited about. They won't move for another year, but they've been discussing what will happen with their excess furniture and artwork just as long. I realize they're moving because they want to simplify their lives. But I can't help but mourn the memories they'll leave behind and what the move signifies.
11. 09.2006 JAYPLAY <-19
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