Everybody loves the grandparents. If the grandparents in your family are your parents, they may not seem fun to you, but to anyone who calls them Grandma and Grandpa they are simply the best.
These elder statesmen walk into the room as survivors of decades of familial battles. They are the ones who beat the odds, raised their children, and are now living the good, small life. They may not have done any of it well, but they did it and for that they are beloved.
They no longer deal with major child-rearing issues or have to search for a bigger place with a more expensive mortgage and modern countertops. Theirs is a life made up of grandkids, free time, and errands. They’ll walk to the post office to buy some stamps, send a card to their granddaughter, take a nap, and call it a day. Which it truly was.
When my grandparents came over it was like being visited by wacky wizards. They couldn’t really see, or hear, or operate a coffeemaker, and yet they were able to hurl down the highway at high speeds and magically appear in our living room. They’d sit there with their impish smiles, holding secret satchels filled with things of wonder, just waiting to perform.
My grandfather wore little leather shoes, with white socks bunched up beneath his stretchy brown pants. He continually pulled his pants up so high that it looked like his waist started under his chin. He had to do this because they were so weighted down by all the stuff in his pockets. He had everything in there; all sorts of coins, pocketknives, ball bearings, maps, and lighters. He carried some fascinating stuff and could make a quarter appear from inside your ear, but he really couldn’t compete with Grandma.
Grandma’s magic was found in her mystical handbag. My nana would reach into her purse and magically conjure up anything we could dream of, as if she were one of Harry Potter’s teachers. If you ever need to free yourself from jail, pick a lock, or just relax with a candy-coated honey stick, just ask Grandma.
Grandparents are funny, even if they’re not trying to be. They walk funny, say things in a funny way, and are always trying to get a smile out of you. They’re like the class clown who, just by staying around the school long enough, ended up becoming the principal.
Every grandparent has a little routine that they do, something special that they’re known for. My grandfather’s specialty was baseball. He was a lifelong Yankees fan, having been a child during the Lou Gehrig and Joe DiMaggio years. Regardless of the time of year, it seemed like the minute he would plop down on the couch, a game would instantly appear on the TV. He would tell long, detailed stories of Yankees history while watching the game and napping at the same time.
One of my grandmothers was the cook. She was permanently attached to the stove for days. She would come back from the store with nothing but an Italian bread and a block of Parmesan cheese and, like Jesus turning water into wine, she would create a meal for twenty or more people.
My other grandmother, Nana, was all about the games. Throughout my entire childhood, she carried a deck of cards up her sleeve like a dainty card shark, always looking for some action. She played it all, Go Fish, Kings in the Corner, and Bridge, and when she tired of those it was on to board games—Hangman and Tic–Tac-Toe. She was up for anything as long as it was play. Not work. Not school. Play.
That’s a grandparent’s greatest asset; that they don’t have to take anything seriously anymore. Whatever problems might arise they aren’t nearly as important as the time they can spend goofing around with their grandchildren.
Mine are all gone now and I miss them terribly. I miss their funny haircuts, their magic, and their greatest trick of all: making me feel like I was the most important person in the world.