2-14-2011 Part 1

Valentine’s Day

After he had gone out to his car to put his pictures away, addressing Dad: “you really need to clip the foliage because it’s affecting my hair-do.”

He had brought pictures taken of him attending various conferences around the world, one of him and Grandma (“Mother”) at a wedding reception or some such fancy thing – he couldn’t remember the specific occasion, but they were both wearing flowers, and a picture of Grandma when she was younger, “showing off,” as he put it. She looked gorgeous. Great dress, quite the cocky little smile. “I’d say that’s a very deliberate situation,” He said.

I showed him my story in the paper, and showed him that my next story was already on the online version, he spouted about the irritation of online newspapers, and the absurdity of them pushing the printed news out of business, and I gathered he hardly thought it counted if all I had was an online article. I assured him that it was also in the print addition, I just hadn’t managed to drive over the hill and pick up a copy. But they were saving me a few. That mollified him somewhat.

Later, I don’t even remember what he brought up to provoke my decided opinion, but he said, “Gad, isn’t she a smarty pants now that she’s a big newspaper woman. She’ll become unbearable.” But then he recanted and agreed that it was a splendid opportunity. I expressed my gratitude at the attitude of the editor, and the support I felt she was giving me.

“Sometimes it’s nice to know somebody thinks you’re worth something,” He agreed.

Speaking of Redlands, he again mentioned that he believed it was founded by rich people from Chicago, who had probably first come out to the area to escape the vicious Chicago winters, and had stayed on and built the city. I said I thought they had done quite a good job, since Redlands is a beautiful city: Lots of charm, and history and remarkable old houses.

“And what does that tell you, young lady?” He asked me. That’s right, money.

1-27-2011, Thursday

It was ten in the morning. I was sitting at the dining room table eating soup, after my morning run, when I heard a slight noise in the kitchen -- much too quiet to be Mom and Leslie coming home. I found a pile of men’s shirt laid over a chair, and the back door ajar: definite signs of Grandpa. Probably he had gone out to get another load from the car. Sure enough, here he came with another bag of oranges and things. I greeted him and thanked him for the things he was unloading. “Don’t say thank you, again, I’ll have a heart attack,” he said, and headed back out the door. Do you need any help? I asked. “Definitely not.” Are you leaving? I asked. “I never leave, I’m always here,” He said, shutting the door. I really wasn’t sure if that meant he would be back or not. Apparently it did. He came back with some paper napkins and a print-out of an email Mom had sent Grandma in 1999, told me to try not to work too hard, and that I was not to eat all of the oranges before my mother got home. He said he presumed Mom was out helping the Pope of the Church, and expressed his shock that Matilda was singing illegally with the wrong group yet again. And, declining all invitations to sit, eat, or stay, he was off.

1-24-2011, Monday

Attention everyone: this just in: important update: Grandpa likes Abby from NCIS. He thinks she’s great, and that the actress plays her just perfectly. I think that’s fantastic. He also like Ducky's mother.

He came to dinner tonight. We had beef stroganoff, broccoli, and lemon pie. We told him 5:30, but he insisted it was 5, so he was on our doorstep at 4:30. He brought a whole host of things. Scarves of grandma’s, programs from old things, big bags of oranges from his tree, paper napkins, a straw hat, and a stack of pants for mom to hem. He talked a lot of sports with dad, he had brought a copy of the sports page. He had also brought a paper with an article about how they are thinking of getting rid of the Barton St. orange groves. This is a very big deal in his world.

He likes to talk about what is current, and tell you where he read it. If you want to have a conversation with him, you had better be up on your news. Partially because that is what he will want to talk about of course, and the other part because of the peculiar way he describes things. If you aren’t familiar with an event yourself, you may never figure out what he is talking about. He won’t say, did you read the article about remodeling of a certain shopping center? He’ll say, did you read about the big deal they’re doing? And you’d better be able to keep up, because asking him to explain will just get you more lost.

He’s been telling more stories lately. I think we’ve finally got him convinced that we really do want to hear all about it. At first when I told him I wanted to know all about his life, he kind of shrugged it off, insisting there wasn’t much to tell. We had to ask him for specific stories he had already hinted at, and then pry for details. But now he brings up things on his own, and is more comfortable talking about it. Tonight he talked about when won the home beautification competition and got to go to Chicago and meet, “his friend Mrs. Walgreen.” He also talked about getting his PHD, and a few of his travels.

Traveling is a pretty easy subject to get him to talk a bit about. He loves to travel. Life is one big adventure, and half the fun is seeing new places and meeting new people. He landed the perfect job, really, because he was always running here and there to conferences and meetings and to look at all the crops, and most of the time his expenses were paid. He also says that is why Grandma married him, but I’m pretty sure she was also madly in love with him. (Although that took me a while to sort out.) Traveling is sure to be brought up in most conversations, same as current events and where they are growing and shipping the produce from these days. He knows where everything comes from, always.

Granny came to dinner as well, and Grandpa likes to talk to her. I think he figures they are old and somewhat lonely together. She mentioned that she had been talking to Cheryl, and he asked her to explain again which of her kids were which once more (he doesn’t see them often enough to keep what they look like, where they live, and what they do for a living fresh in his mind, and these are all the important facts you simply must know about a person). After that he talked about Cheryl, and what she might think of this or that in her own industry. I have noticed that he always asks about things others are doing, or are interested in, and which he doesn’t know a lot about. And then he listens to learn. I think it’s one of the reasons he has so many friends and such an easy times talking to strangers even though he is a bit gruff and cantankerous. He is always taking advantage of opportunities to learn new things. He thinks a person ought to know as much as he can, and do as much as he can, and see as much as he can. Because eventually, the money runs out, and then you die.

What a man. Direct transcripts to follow.

1-22-2011, Saturday

Grandpa came by this afternoon to drop off a wet, steam, vacuum-cleaning thingummy that he bought on sale somewhere and then decided he would never figure out how it works. We have a few things like that he bought, probably on mega sale from an infomercial. Like a lot of people who grew up during the depression, he loves to buy something expensive for dirt cheap.

He pulled up as we were planting the strawberries he gave us along the side of the driveway. Perfect timing in more that one way. First, Mom was glad because now he could consult on how close together she should plant them. And second, because he could see that we were excited about the strawberries, and that we really did want them. Proof we weren’t just being polite. It’s nice when you see someone using and enjoying a gift you gave them. I think Grandpa is that way more than anyone. Beats the simple thank you card any time. Not that the thank you card isn’t the first thing you should always do. Especially with grandpas.

My grandpa, as you may or not know, it a plant pathologist, and strawberries are kind of his specialty, which is why we were getting strawberry plants from him in the first place. He’s semi retired now. He still has an office at the university, and he still goes in there to look at things and email his plant buddies around the world. Occasionally he still travels to conferences or to check out the crops. I think the biggest difference between retirement and non-retirement is that nowadays he would have to pay for his own travel. He doesn’t travel near as much as he used to.

He took me to his office once, and around the campus. He knows who all the buildings were named after, and what they did, and where they were from. In fact, that’s something my grandpa seems to know about everyone. Owners of giant corporations, founders of cities and states, criminals and government leaders, all categorized by where they were from, and what they started out doing. He can also do this with most any produce, and a vast assortment of other foods you might find in your grocery store. He knows where they are growing in which season, and he probably knows who owns the land. “My buddy,” he’ll tell you. That’s what he calls most of them. He has a great many friends. In part because he talks to everyone, everywhere. Traveling in Germany, walking through the supermarket, on the street, absolutely everywhere.

So he told Mom that the strawberries probably wanted a little more room than she was giving them. Not that she should take those out and start over, but that when we did the next patch maybe we’d better give more space. He told us he had bee n slaving away all the past week planting his roses along his driveway. He says he is getting old to be a gardener, and that roses are vicious plants and he has wounds all over from planting them. We asked him to dinner on Monday, but he said he can’t possibly come. We’ll ask again later, sometimes that changes.