The Case of the Grilled Cheese Sandwich

My grandson likes grilled cheese sandwiches. More importantly, he likes it when we (Grandpa or I) make them.

I used to call them “toasted cheese.” Actually, I think that they are. After all, they aren’t made on a grill, they are made in a large pan, or perhaps (if you have one), a griddle. (What a mess if it were really cooked on a grill–right?).

A favorite way to eat them is to dip them into that creamy tomato soup, produced by Campbells. If you mix it with milk (the condensed soup), you can dip that corner of the sandwich in and the blend of the flavors really melt into your mouth, especially on a cold winter’s day. Or on any day when you want to feel the warm, toasty flavor, and call it love.

Anyway, my grandson enjoys cutting our lawn. Around and around the lawn he goes, and when he is done, he comes in and sits. “Would you like some ice cream?” his grandfather asks. “No, thank you,” he replies. “What can we get for you?” “How about a grilled cheese sandwich?” he says. Really? “One or two?” “Oh, I’ll start with one.” A few minutes later, “Actually, I think I will have two!”

It’s amazing how a grilled cheese sandwich can warm not only our tastebuds, but also our hearts.

And My Heart Stood Still

My 22 month old grandson suddenly runs over to kiss me…and my heart stood still…

My 13 year old grandson goes on a “trip to town” and has a Cubano with me…”it’s great!” He declares, and my heart stood still…

“Grandma, will you brush my hair?” Says my eleven year old granddaughter, and “can you tell me another story?” My heart stood still.

My 37 year old son gets up at 5:30 in the morning, so he can share in coffee and conversation with me, as we watch the sky light in its first light of day…talking of everything and nothing at all. My heart stand still.

It’s the little things we remember the most.

Mary Poppins is My Middle Name

I have chosen this because I somehow believe that I am “practically perfect in every way!”

Nonsense.  Push it aside and you find an older woman (not even middle aged by definition, although I still consider myself in that age range) who tries so much to be practically perfect and be it to everyone.  STILL.

I actually chose the title of this article today because my great striving this holiday season is to go see the newest Mary Poppins movie.  I love Mary Poppins.  I want to be Mary Poppins.  Mary Poppins has every hair in place.  She wears wonderful hats.  She has a carpet bag that houses a mirror, a large plant, and all things magic.  She has an image that competes with her in the mirror!  Mary Poppins jumps into chalk drawings and creates an adventure. Mary Poppins sees the humor, and rolling her eyes, joins in as eccentric Uncle Albert rolls with laughter on the ceiling.   Mary Poppins spouts wisdom.  Mary Poppins looks at adults and says things like “supercalifragilisticexpialidoscus.”   Nonsense that no one understands, but eventually accept  and not grudgingly.  I want to dance on chimney tops with my Bert (yes, my Bert and I actually DO ballroom dancing)!

I love my grandchildren and want to be their Mary Poppins.  I want to look at their parents–my children–and have them see a crazy old woman who zips up and down staircases with their children, doles out sweet tasting goodies that are good for you to awe those little children into thinking their grandma is magical, when really she is just a crusty old lady with acceptance issues!  But the crusty old lady thinks her grandchildren are the cats’ meow and will do anything to love and entertain them.  Anything to leave her mark on their lives.  Anything to become a historical creature, without doing anything illegal, of course.  And when I leave, whether temporarily through the clouds, sporting my umbrella, or forever on that day, I want to be remembered.

That’s why I do the things that I do.  I write letters that I hope my children (and grands) read, I write journals, so they know who is living in the hyphen, and I become an historical person that actually LIVED, not a vague name on an ancestry listing.  I may never be a national figure, or international figure like Mary Poppins, I will never be a notorious queen, such as Mary, Queen of Scots, or poor Ann, who lost her head over Henry VIII’s whim.  But for what I am hoping is that, for two generations to come, I am.

So let me strip that Mary Poppins middle name from the title, and be Grandma.  Perfect in every way.  And not even practically!

A Hyphen

Remembering my grandmother today.  It would be her 116th birthday.  Happy “earth” day, Pearl Doty!  I’m remembering you today, and your hyphen, 1900-1988.

Okay, I’m the baby on her right knee, looking at baby Russell, in her left arm.  I do remember this picture being taken.  I do remember watching that baby.  Definitely my earliest memory in life, because this event, the picture with all her grandchildren up to that point, was taking place.  The year was 1957.

1958. (Note of interest – I now live next door to this house in the background)

Grandma Doty was essential in my early years.  We lived with her on the farm in German, NY, then on Albany Street.  Eventually my parents bought a small house outside of the village.  Grandma remained on Albany Street, in an apartment, until 1975, when she went into the NYS Veterans Home.

Grandma would have us over on Friday nights for a sleepover.  We’d watch her new color TV (Gomer Pyle, USMC) and then go to bed in her big double bed in the little bedroom, with her mother’s portrait standing guard over us (they didn’t smile in those days, so it was a little scary).  The next morning Grandma would be in her tiny apartment kitchen, making us breakfast:  orange juice, cereal, eggs, toast, and hot cocoa.  Way more than we could eat!

Life was good.

I remember taking her via air to my sister’s wedding in 1978, Holland, Michigan.  We had a grand time.  Gram, as I fondly called her, was escorted via wheelchair, all over the airports, first on, last off.

Sometimes I can feel her spirit quickening inside of me.  I enjoy the feeling and bask in it.

Miss you, Gram.  Happy birthday!  I still love you.

Seeking Immortality

In the 1970 television series, The Immortal, Ben Richards has a rare blood type which makes him immortal.  Throughout this series, he gives his blood to save those in need, and is on the run, while bringing goodness and life to those in need.

While this is fiction, we all strive and desire immortality, yet every day we are one step, one day, even that day, of our own mortal (human) destiny.

We seek it through our children and those that remember us well.  I was reminded of this with my precious little almost three year old granddaughter.  She doesn’t know me well, it’s difficult for her to warm up to me because we do not see each other often enough, but she knows that I am her grandmother and she has a duty of love.  I was looking for my lipstick.  Failing to find it, she said, “Grandma, you can use mine.”  She got it, I said, “can you help me put it on?”  And she did, with her generous little heart.  Another happy thought for this grandmother, and one I will take to my heart for the rest of my time.

We are immortalized, after all, through the generations of our children and grandchildren.

So this story is for you, my little one.

Photo courtesy of Jackie Rosenberger Straub

Your Happy Thought

Your happy thought can bring you magic and wonder. My most recent happy thought occurred yesterday as my four year old granddaughter took my hand and she skipped to my quick pace, and laughter and joy filled my heart. That moment in time I will hold in my heart for the rest of my life, “and she lived happily ever after.”

  

Thanksgiving and Turkeys

I’m thankful. I made the turkey!

Sounds Like Spring, Feels Like Spring

It’s 34 degrees and sunny outside.  The birds (blue jays mostly) are creating enormous havoc.  See?  I told you, “if we listen close enough, we can hear spring before we see it.”  

My grandson is 4 and he said, “it must be spring, it’s SO WARM!” (40 degrees)

We celebrated with a map of Tyringham Cobble (complete, of course, with ninjas, Moby Dick, and castle…)

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Valentines Day with Little Miss

“Grandma, you made me so happy!  I love my Valentine card!” exclaimed Little Miss.  We were having our little overnight in combination with an early Valentines Day party, just the two of us.  I love this child, she is so easy to be happy. I’m saving this in my Book of Memories, for at some point she will be interested in other things, other people, and will remember me later, after her wedding day.