Hello there and happy Tuesday friends! Here's what's happening this week: as I spend time on the west coast with my grandfather I'll be sharing posts from dear friends - all in tribute to our grandparents. A very worthy subject to pay tribute to, don't you think? I've asked friends to share a favorite memory, and a photo, and I have to say that I am truly so honored by all the beautiful memories and photos that landed in my inbox this weekend. I think you'll love these posts as much as I do. And I hope you'll join us with your own memories in the comments.
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From Lisa Solomon
I was fortunate enough to have the grandparents on my father’s side be a mere 7 minutes away from my house. Growing up they were constants in my lives. They would pick me up from school and we’d get treats [ice-cream with my grandma and donuts –which we called secrets because we kept it secret from my folks- with my grandpa], I’d swim at their friend’s houses [they had a couple friends with great backyard pools], we’d play games [queens, crazy 8’s, blackjack, pool, gin rummy], we’d go to movies, eat at Changs [my grandfather’s favorite Chinese restaurant]. The normal stuffs of happy childhoods. I am who I am today because of their influence. I see them and feel them in my day to day life even though I can no longer physically hug them.
My grandfather was quite a character and quite a talker. He would make friends with someone wherever we would go. He was such a tease that you couldn’t always trust what he said. As a small girl my grandma and I worked out a system. He’d tell what might be a tall tale, I’d look at her, she would nod if it was true and shake her head if it was false. My grandmother was the most nurturing person imaginable [it was impossible to go hungry at her house - mostly because as a good Jewish grandmother she would ask you every 10 minutes if you needed anything to eat]. If you asked her for the moon, she would have attempted to have it delivered to you on a silver platter. But enough already. Here’s a memory that always gives me a giggle [which is something my grandfather would like]:
In general my grandparents were big supporters of doing “cultured” things. So much so that my grandma signed me up for children’s theatre when I was still young [under 8]. Every so often on Saturday she would take me to a grown-up theater and we’d watch a production/event catered for kids. One time she couldn’t take me, so Papa [that’s what I called my grandpa] gallantly stepped in. There we are in the theatre... The show starts.... It’s dark.... You hear loud laughter now and again from the kid filled audience. And then. You hear snoring. It starts out quietly enough but then crescendos into VERY LOUD snoring. Snoring that could blow the roof off the place. And in horror I realize it’s Papa sitting next to me. So I tap his arm. Tug on his arm. Loudly whisper Papa Papa ! Wake up ! Furiously embarrassed I elbow him in the ribs – as HARD as I can. He stirs, snorts, shakes his head, looks around confused, looks down at me. Papa ! I whisper – you were snoring ! He sheepishly smiles- says ouch that hurt. Then says sorry and whispers back – I promise to stay awake for the rest of the show. And he did, although I kept my eye on him the whole time ready to elbow again if need be. I remember being proud that I figured out how to wake him up and I remember us laughing and laughing as we told my grandma and parents what happened that day.