I forgot what I was going to write about. Balls-diggity balls! Fo shizzle. Feckaleckalecka. I was laying in bed thinking "dont forget to . . . " ugh.
Right. First thing that comes to my head then.
Dead grandma.
Oooooookeee then. Today it is exactly 5 years and 1 week since Grandma H. died. I remember this date because I really actually liked Grandma H. so much, and she was the first person to ever die, who I cared about. I guess I don't really have to write too much of the details about the day I got the news from home because that was actually in the 1 salvaged journal from the South Africa days. Lucky me!
I loved grandma H. because she wasn't a manipulative cow. Most people I know have 1 set of grandparents who they like more than the others. Isn't that so weird? I mean people (well, my parents anyway) wax on and on about the unconditional love of family, the literal communisim of family love, and the abscense of favoritism here and there when it comes to BLOOD and wah wha wha wha... that's all hogwash and dreamland. I know people who have favorite kids, favorite parents, and oh HELL yeah favorite grandparents. Anyway, what I mean is it's weird because most people I know have a favorite grandparent set, or at least a favorite grandparent. (Let this be a lesson to anyone who thinks that kids HAVE to love them, just because they're a blood relative)
H and I have the exact same situation re: our granp's. We both liked the paternal ones best. And of course my favorite set AND his favorite set are dead now, but the other set is both still alive. Cruel. However, where our situations differ is the reason we liked 'em. He liked "the spoilers", I liked the "non-spoilers". That is so weird. I'd figure most kids would go for the spoilers... the candy givers, the buy-buy-buyers, the chocolate-cake-for-breakfasters. I have to admit, this is how I used to lean when I was a kid. I used to be annoyed when I got sent to Wichita to the H's for 2 weeks every summer. But I would lap it up when I got sent to the spoilers. Why? Because at the H's, they made me go to ZOO SCHOOL (at the zoo, duh) during my summer holiday, and I mean COME ON WHO WANTS TO GO TO ANYTHING CALLED SCHOOL DURING THE SUMMER.... (jeezus I was a selfish idiot BASTARD when I was 10!!! I'd kill for a good lashing of Zoo School these days). They didnt have an unlimited supply of Oreos in the house, only 4 channels on their TV, only went out for pizza once a week, had to eat hommade breakfast casserole with (ugh) eggs, cheese, bacon, and all sorts of gross shit in it, plus we'd only get 1 or 2 cups of koolaid per day, there was NEVER an endless supply of every soda variety known to man in the garage.... oh yeah, and Granddaddy would always make me go with him to help out with his WichitaGeneologyCentre restoration project ("the old house" as we called it) in downtown-- where he & a tiny team of "older" volunteers took at least 5 years of their personal time & resources to restore an old historic house, to be used as the Geneological research centre, literally brick by brick. Again, COME ON WHAT 10 YEAR OLD WANTS TO SPACKLE AND PAINT AN OLD DUMP DURING THE SUMMER??? (I was a downright piece of shit, I know)
Gawd, they always wanted to play brain-games like scrabble, solitaire, boggle, and upwords. They wanted me to PLAY. OUTSIDE. and WALK to the PARK. ugh.
The spoilers let me& Jeff sit in front of the box, in the a/c, let me gain 10 kg per summer, took me to Worlds of Fun. Then Oceans of Fun the next day, where we complained about not getting enough soda and cheap plastic gimmicky toys, and proceeded to then get more. We went shopping for clothes, or purses, or stuffed animals, whatever we wanted. And then got Ice Cream on the way home. with WHATEVER on top. And then back home to the a/c and the cable tv and the neverending stockpile of 30 varieties of soda in the garage.
Sounds great. But the reality is the following:
Spoilers: The same g'ma who later told me when I was 16 "If you really love your grandma you'll take that down off your wall" (my beloved Grateful Dead poster). And is textbook passive-agressive. And who told me once when I was 5, and she caught me wincing when I had to kiss her stinky old-person cheek goodnight, "someday you might not have a grandma to give you a goodnight kiss anymore!" And the one who tells my mom every single thing I say to her. And advises said mother that her daughter should be more helpful around the house, as it 'twas in her day... Who told me I shouldn't go to Tanzania when I got my grad-school grant, because it was too dangerous and I wouldnt be safe, besides I shouldn't do that to my parents. Counts the exact number of days between me receiving a card with a check enclosed, and them receiving a thank-you note. And who passive-aggressively gives me the guilts for not calling/writing enough to this day. And believes everything that comes out of every Fox News reporter's mouth.
Non-Spoilers:
Would ask me my likes and dislikes about school, life, friends, world issues. Taught me the value of putting effort into tracing your family geneolgy. Voted democrat. Acted interested when I turned adolescent and started immersing myself in rock music, literature. Encouraged me to follow The Band around the country when I was 20, because it was the time of my life for doing stuff like that. Kept every secret I ever divulged. Including the one about the 37-year old-boyfriend. Told me I should definitely try and make the effort to work in a trip to Niagra Falls with my friends, when we were up in New York following our favorite band from show to show. Would ask about what kinds of music I was listening to on my headphones (which never came off my head-- but they were cool with that). Told me they were proud of me when I moved to Australia and South Africa. Wrote me loads of hand-written letters (no money enclosed) which asked questions and gave interesting updates on things going on in the family, their life, etc. Didnt make me kiss anyone on any cheek, and weren't offended when that included them. Most definitely gave me the space I needed to grow up and get my head screwed on right.
All I can say is it took 17 or so -years to figure it out, but kids aren't dumb. You can spoil them rotten when they're young, but they don't stay naive forever. They're gonna figure it out one day and everybody can tell quality from crap by the time they hit 16 or 17.
Man, and to think, I got to go to ZOO SCHOOL! That's just damn cool. What I regret is that I probably scowled all the way there, in the car. Probably rolled my eyes a few times too. But Grandma H. just let me scowl, dropped me off at the zoo, every day-- I don't know, maybe she knew I'd figure out the value of all that shit, for myself, later on. She was one patient ol' gal.
Right. First thing that comes to my head then.
Dead grandma.
Oooooookeee then. Today it is exactly 5 years and 1 week since Grandma H. died. I remember this date because I really actually liked Grandma H. so much, and she was the first person to ever die, who I cared about. I guess I don't really have to write too much of the details about the day I got the news from home because that was actually in the 1 salvaged journal from the South Africa days. Lucky me!
I loved grandma H. because she wasn't a manipulative cow. Most people I know have 1 set of grandparents who they like more than the others. Isn't that so weird? I mean people (well, my parents anyway) wax on and on about the unconditional love of family, the literal communisim of family love, and the abscense of favoritism here and there when it comes to BLOOD and wah wha wha wha... that's all hogwash and dreamland. I know people who have favorite kids, favorite parents, and oh HELL yeah favorite grandparents. Anyway, what I mean is it's weird because most people I know have a favorite grandparent set, or at least a favorite grandparent. (Let this be a lesson to anyone who thinks that kids HAVE to love them, just because they're a blood relative)
H and I have the exact same situation re: our granp's. We both liked the paternal ones best. And of course my favorite set AND his favorite set are dead now, but the other set is both still alive. Cruel. However, where our situations differ is the reason we liked 'em. He liked "the spoilers", I liked the "non-spoilers". That is so weird. I'd figure most kids would go for the spoilers... the candy givers, the buy-buy-buyers, the chocolate-cake-for-breakfasters. I have to admit, this is how I used to lean when I was a kid. I used to be annoyed when I got sent to Wichita to the H's for 2 weeks every summer. But I would lap it up when I got sent to the spoilers. Why? Because at the H's, they made me go to ZOO SCHOOL (at the zoo, duh) during my summer holiday, and I mean COME ON WHO WANTS TO GO TO ANYTHING CALLED SCHOOL DURING THE SUMMER.... (jeezus I was a selfish idiot BASTARD when I was 10!!! I'd kill for a good lashing of Zoo School these days). They didnt have an unlimited supply of Oreos in the house, only 4 channels on their TV, only went out for pizza once a week, had to eat hommade breakfast casserole with (ugh) eggs, cheese, bacon, and all sorts of gross shit in it, plus we'd only get 1 or 2 cups of koolaid per day, there was NEVER an endless supply of every soda variety known to man in the garage.... oh yeah, and Granddaddy would always make me go with him to help out with his WichitaGeneologyCentre restoration project ("the old house" as we called it) in downtown-- where he & a tiny team of "older" volunteers took at least 5 years of their personal time & resources to restore an old historic house, to be used as the Geneological research centre, literally brick by brick. Again, COME ON WHAT 10 YEAR OLD WANTS TO SPACKLE AND PAINT AN OLD DUMP DURING THE SUMMER??? (I was a downright piece of shit, I know)
Gawd, they always wanted to play brain-games like scrabble, solitaire, boggle, and upwords. They wanted me to PLAY. OUTSIDE. and WALK to the PARK. ugh.
The spoilers let me& Jeff sit in front of the box, in the a/c, let me gain 10 kg per summer, took me to Worlds of Fun. Then Oceans of Fun the next day, where we complained about not getting enough soda and cheap plastic gimmicky toys, and proceeded to then get more. We went shopping for clothes, or purses, or stuffed animals, whatever we wanted. And then got Ice Cream on the way home. with WHATEVER on top. And then back home to the a/c and the cable tv and the neverending stockpile of 30 varieties of soda in the garage.
Sounds great. But the reality is the following:
Spoilers: The same g'ma who later told me when I was 16 "If you really love your grandma you'll take that down off your wall" (my beloved Grateful Dead poster). And is textbook passive-agressive. And who told me once when I was 5, and she caught me wincing when I had to kiss her stinky old-person cheek goodnight, "someday you might not have a grandma to give you a goodnight kiss anymore!" And the one who tells my mom every single thing I say to her. And advises said mother that her daughter should be more helpful around the house, as it 'twas in her day... Who told me I shouldn't go to Tanzania when I got my grad-school grant, because it was too dangerous and I wouldnt be safe, besides I shouldn't do that to my parents. Counts the exact number of days between me receiving a card with a check enclosed, and them receiving a thank-you note. And who passive-aggressively gives me the guilts for not calling/writing enough to this day. And believes everything that comes out of every Fox News reporter's mouth.
Non-Spoilers:
Would ask me my likes and dislikes about school, life, friends, world issues. Taught me the value of putting effort into tracing your family geneolgy. Voted democrat. Acted interested when I turned adolescent and started immersing myself in rock music, literature. Encouraged me to follow The Band around the country when I was 20, because it was the time of my life for doing stuff like that. Kept every secret I ever divulged. Including the one about the 37-year old-boyfriend. Told me I should definitely try and make the effort to work in a trip to Niagra Falls with my friends, when we were up in New York following our favorite band from show to show. Would ask about what kinds of music I was listening to on my headphones (which never came off my head-- but they were cool with that). Told me they were proud of me when I moved to Australia and South Africa. Wrote me loads of hand-written letters (no money enclosed) which asked questions and gave interesting updates on things going on in the family, their life, etc. Didnt make me kiss anyone on any cheek, and weren't offended when that included them. Most definitely gave me the space I needed to grow up and get my head screwed on right.
All I can say is it took 17 or so -years to figure it out, but kids aren't dumb. You can spoil them rotten when they're young, but they don't stay naive forever. They're gonna figure it out one day and everybody can tell quality from crap by the time they hit 16 or 17.
Man, and to think, I got to go to ZOO SCHOOL! That's just damn cool. What I regret is that I probably scowled all the way there, in the car. Probably rolled my eyes a few times too. But Grandma H. just let me scowl, dropped me off at the zoo, every day-- I don't know, maybe she knew I'd figure out the value of all that shit, for myself, later on. She was one patient ol' gal.
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