Oct. 10: Naughty old woman

I know I have very few good things to say about my grandma, so it may surprise you that there’s something I enjoy about her, and it is this: Grandma has a bawdy streak. Now, all the circumstances have to be right for her to let it show; she has to be sure she’s not being neglected in any way, she must have an audience, she can’t be angry at anyone, and the planets must be aligned just so.

I learned young that my grandma talked about things most grandmas didn’t. She was the person who told me the “secret” about Eleanor Roosevelt and the connection between Marilyn Monroe and the Kennedys. Grandma loves dirty gossip, and if it’s not dirty enough, she’ll enhance the story until it’s downright shocking.

When she still lived in Walla Walla, Victor and I stayed at her place for a weekend. We weren’t yet dating at the time, and when we got there and she said the guest room was all set up for us, I said, “Um, Grandma, Vic will be sleeping on the couch.” She giggled and said, “Jen, you know I don’t mind if you sleep together...”

Vic: [jaw on the floor, eyes bugged out all cartoony-like]
Me, probably yelling: “Grandma, we’re just friends!”
Grandma: [upset to have to set up another bed]

The whole weekend she continued to make little jabs like, “if the two of you would just sleep together...” You’re thinking YIKES, aren’t you? Damn right, YIKES.

On Christmas she complained because Shelby (Kathy’s little dog) was on her lap and “she keeps stepping on my titties!” Kathy said, “Well, pick your titties up off your lap, then!”

This is not dementia or Alzheimer’s. Our grandma talking about her “titties” is just Grandma being Grandma. I like to think that if it weren’t for her perpetual pissed-offedness, she’d be a lot more like Betty White. That’d be a hoot.