... it is grandparents' day tomorrow, so that seems like a good enough reason to rave for a little bit.
[As you may recall, I normally RANT on Saturdays, but my doctor says it's good to balance that once a month with a RAVE instead.]
Sadly, though, I'm without any more grandfolk in my life ... both sets of maternal and paternal grandparents have passed ... as has my "surrogate" grandmother Joann (seen with me on one of her many trips from Uniontown PA to Dutch Country back in the day). Of course, I can still rave about all of them ... starting with Joann, with whom I was the closest (seeing as how she lived the longest). I met her through my creepy cousin's creepy theatre company, and she had just lost her only daughter a few years earlier. She was convinced that Sally, said daughter, had sent me to her so that she'd have someone for which to care, and care she did. Over and over again, through my eighteen months in her town, and during college, and law school, and the big move to Chicago. I would visit as often as I could, and we spent many holidays with sparkling grape juice and her ambrosia salad and many phone calls reviewing Days of our Lives and the youngsters on American Idol. She catered and doted and loved ... and was a constant in my young adult life.
Before Joann, there were my paternal grandparents, Paul and Esther (or, as I called them, Grandpa and Grandma), seen here below in color and black and white (the latter from 1966, according to a time stamp on the photo). They were around very much in my youth, as we visited them and they visited us quite often. Her broasted chicken was legendary ... and the story goes that she had no qualms chopping off the heads of the fowl in the back yard (chicken runs deep in my paternal family). He passed first, after a long drawn out stint in the local VA center in town, and my most distinct memory of his was walking with him on a holiday up to the 7-11 a few blocks away, where I was shocked because he started eating the ice cream before he paid for it (funny the things we remember). More than anything, though, I recall playing outside at their trailer while the older folks visited, with tag/hide and seek with my younger cousins amongst the trees that lined their driveway ... and the toys they had inside for us kids (so long as you could make it past the territorial angry lap dog miniature poodle).
The other picture (these are clearly taking the place of my customary companion links tonight) is of my maternal grandparents, William and Alice (or, as I called them, Pop-pop and Nanny), seen here below in color later in life and in black in white (allegedly on their wedding day, so in 1938). In my family's divorce, I ended up farther away from my mother's family, and so I have fewer memories of them ... but I can picture Pop-pop's last small place in Reading (and I recall that he was a shorter man with gnarled hands who may or may not have smelled of cigar smoke) .. and Nanny's trailer and then one room rental right outside of Bethel. My specific Nanny memory ... sitting on her bed? couch? fold out couch? watching the Donny and Marie show.
So there you go ... whether blood relatives or chosen family ... these are the grandest of grandfolk who were in my life ... and so I celebrate them ...
