To Conor and Isaac
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“Grandma!” The two boys explode through the front door like twin tornados. I know they’re coming, but the ferociousness always surprises me.
I grab those two charging little bulls up in my arms and swing them around and around. They always laugh and beg for more. Seems these two love being upside down and sideways as often and under any method possible. Great America is their favorite, but Grandma can always be counted on as second best. Fortunately good health, farm-built strength, and youth are still on my side.
A product of the 60’s, during a time when rebellious youth rallied against oppressive parental authoritarianism, free love was seemingly the most shocking defiant activity and resulted in – surprise! – a beautiful baby boy for me. I was seventeen and fiercely independent, which was a damn good thing considering my doctor-father and socially-conscious mother disowned me upon learning of my ‘unfortunate’ pregnancy. We were never able to reconcile, as they died in an automobile accident when I was thirty-two. Much to my older-became-a-doctor-too brother, Charles’, chagrin the court awarded me half their estate after probate, since they amazingly left no will. He attempted to fight the decision in court and lost. I didn’t challenge (I didn’t care), but the judge found Charles reasoning “that my parents disownment should disallow any inheritance” unjustified for my exclusion. Embittered and angry, I added one more layer of salt to his wound by donating every cent of the inheritance to a home for unwed mothers in my parent’s name . We haven’t spoken since. But my youth is another story. This is about my pride and joy.
I became a grandmother twenty-six years after my son was born, at forty-three. I’d grown up spending time at my grandparent’s farm and nowadays remained active with my own horses and raising a couple head of Angus beef for my husband. He’s the meatatarian, loving big juicy grilled steaks, and there is nothing like home-raised.
I married Barney because my name is Betty and I thought it would be a fun way to go through life. The fact that he was, and still is, strikingly handsome, a gentle and loving man who worships the ground I tread and adores my son as his own could have something to do with my fierce love for this city-boy-become-country-man. We could have re-written Green Acres for a modern day, Barney and I.
During summer-school vacation our grandsons, Jeff and Jack, come stay with us on the “farm”. Twins since they were born, these precious babes are definitely boy-boys. Good kids, well-mannered (most of the time), conscientious and respectful lads, these two. But as boys they relish anything involving bugs, slime, boogers, or dead critters. A combination of any of the aforementioned increases their interest level exponentially. Summers are a time of exploration and fun.
Last year they built a fort from old plywood pallets and a tarp Grandpa wasn’t too happy they’d confiscated. They also helped me haul rocks from the creek-bed down on the flat so I could build a rock wall garden. Every morning before it became too bloody hot we’d dress in grubby clothes and pull on our Wolverine work boots - what a fashion statement we’d become! - before heading to the kitchen for our morning meal.
Barney loves to cook and would prepare a work-size breakfast of scrambled eggs smothered with onion, mushroom and bell pepper, along with his famous dollar-sized beer-batter pancakes with a side of his home made scrapple all doused with maple syrup. The grandsons take after me in a love of a good hot hearty breakfast. After the boys and I cleaned the kitchen, taking turns between washing, wiping, and drying, we’d head off to complete our morning chore. Once we’d filled the old wheelbarrow three times with river rock, pushing it back up to the location I’d selected for the garden and dumping our load, the boys were free to do whatever they wanted with the rest of their day.
This year, with the boys having turned nine the past February, Barney came up with such an idea that I’m sure to love him ten times more through the rest of my days. The man is a genius when it comes to understanding the boy’s minds. My rock wall garden had been completed last fall, built into a small hillside slope from which we created a miniature creek-bed to meander around a couple majestic oaks, running down to a small pond. Barney and I hauled a LOT more loads of river rock to finish the creek, and I must say – and I will – that it’s impressive! Once time and weather wear on it a bit I believe it will look as though ma nature placed that creek right there along my rock wall garden as her artistic eye saw fit.
Barney gleaned this magnificent idea after watching one of his favorite television channels – The Learning Channel, History Channel, or some-such-station. He’d been watching a series on the California Gold Rush and came up with the brilliant idea of making our own gold-rush for the boys this summer. We gathered thumb to fist sized rocks which we spray-painted gold and silver. Then we buried them throughout our man-and-woman made creek. The project was finished in early May, and since then have excitedly danced around in anticipation of the boys arrival.
“Grandma, did you make any cookies today?” Jack inquires, knowing full well there is a batch of warm walnut and chocolate chip infused cookies waiting for him and his brother.
“No, sorry little ‘un. Grandma’s too old and tired to bake any more.” I lean over placing my hand on the small of my back and walk around like a rickety old man.
Laughter erupts from my two bombardiers. “Oh Grandma! You will never get old!”
From the mouths of babes…
“Grandpa, may we please go investigate the cookie jar?” Jeff sort of asks permission as he scampers by on his way to grab a fistful of treats.
“Alright you little heathens, make sure it’s okay with your Grandmother first. She may have other plans for you!” Jeannie, the boy’s mother, shoots after them knowing full well they aren’t listening.
“Ah, it’s alright Jeanster. Let ‘em go. We’re not having dinner for another couple hours, and I don’t plan on having them putt up any barn walls or digging ditches today.”
I adore my daughter. I chose to drop off the “in-law” part of her title, as I love her as though she were born of my womb. The perfect mate for my son, Tony, and the best little mother those two whorlish twin devils could ask for. Having twin older brothers certainly helps her understanding on raising the boys. This good-natured dark-haired dark-skinned Creole came straight from the swamp-lands of Louisiana. Paired with my red-headed, light skinned son, they make a beautiful couple – and produced two stunningly handsome lads, if I must say so myself, and I do - often.
The boys return, crumbed lips and shirts and big toothy smiles. Oh. There are crumbs there, too.
“Oh you kids!” I laugh. “Let’s go make our summer plans while your mom and dad unload the car.” I wink at Jeannie, who I’d nick-named Jeanster several years prior. “We have lot’s to do this summer, so we need to plan our days accordingly!”
There is truly no need to map our days, but I enjoy discussing our summer options with the boys, providing them with enthusiasm and encouragement by planning some of the activities so they wouldn’t feel the need to cram everything into the first two days. We’ll schedule the big events then fill in other times with more leisurely activities, chores around the property, or the exploration and fun things they liked doing closer to home. We’ll fill in our calendar using bright red ink for the days we’ll journey off the farm and blue for anything around here worthy of notation.
The boys cherish the days they get to go up in Grandpa’s airplane and fly to Auburn for lunch, talking with the airport bums (airplane owners who hung out at airports regaling their passion of aviation and flying to anyone willing to listen), eating at the airport café and even being hugged by Gloria, the big robust woman who ran the café and knew all her customer’s so well she could call out ‘Happy Birthday’ to any one of her hundreds of regulars. They would then fly back to the little ranch, landing on the grass runway Grandpa had built fifteen years ago. There will be a camping trip to the ocean and back, taking five or six days. Grandpa will also take them fishing, teaching them the varieties of bait and techniques for throwing line.
Barney looked forward to taking his grandsons, individually, cross-country during one of his planned flights. A Senior Captain for American Airlines, Barney paid his dues early on in his career by living on pilot pay and out of a suitcase, gone more than at home. Now, after sixteen years and promoted to the highest flying position possible, he can choose his legs and make his own schedule. In a couple years he plans to take each boy on a long-haul trip with a four or five day layover to explore the area. The boys love drilling him about his twenty-year career as an Air Force pilot, oohing and ahhing over the various aircraft he flew. The boys have the bug and will learn to fly in Grandpa’s 180 Cessna as soon as they are able to reach the pedals and see clearly out the window.
“Grandma, are we going to have a treasure hunt again?”
Last year’s surprise was an event planned in miniscule by Barney and me. We spent a month exploring our land seeking perfect hiding places for “treasure maps” and clues. It kept the boys entertained an entire afternoon and well into the evening hunting down each cryptic site and figuring out the clues. The “prize” consisted of tickets to Great America and five hundred dollars to add to their growing savings account.
Barney and I set up trust and savings accounts for the boy’s years ago. Every year during their visits they are assigned chores they must do to ‘earn’ the trips and outings. There is also a list of jobs they can do to earn cold hard cash. Every ‘payday’ they add up their earnings and I take them to the bank where they deposit at least half their earned income. The other half, if they elect to keep it, they can spend on whatever they choose. The jobs are harder and more tedious than the chores. Mucking horse stalls, stacking wood for the pot-bellied stove, raking leaves into large piles, or lumping hay bales is just the right kind of tiring tasks for these growing lads. Feeding the horses and steers, vacuuming and dusting, sweeping out Grandpa’s work shed (a tidy out building containing his hobby and automotive tools), and helping with the meal dishes are the chores assigned. Barney and I believe that children should learn the value of hard work and appreciate the rewards. We love to spoil our grandkids, but sure make them earn it!
“Oh, we are going to engage in a couple treasure hunts this year! They were so much fun last year we decided to do two this year – one for just the two of you, and one with Mark and Spencer.” I announce. Mark and Spencer are two same-aged boys whose parents Barney is friends with, met at the local airport. “And Grandpa has another surprise.”
“What!! What!! Tell us Granpa!” Both boys cry in unison, their voices simply a replication of each other.
“We’re going to do some gold and silver mining this year.” Barney proudly announces.
The boy’s eyes widen in wonder, as they stare between each other and their adored grandfather.
“Wow!” and “Holy Cow!” I hear but can’t tell which said what.
“Where are we going?” Jack questions.
“Why, were going to do it right here! In Grandma’s creek!” Barney replies.
Quizzical expressions cover their faces, as Barney and I burst into laughter. Both boys become electric with anticipation as their grandpa explains about the gold and silver stones. Each one has a monetary value, determined by size and color. Because of difficulty, the smaller gold rocks bring the most payout. The boys buzz, anxious to begin their mining and panning.
I leave the room and return with a large heavy box laden with pans, gloves, hats, two small hand shovels, two small picks, and canvas sacks to carry their ‘booty’. I also bring two large flashlights.
“Our exploration begins tonight, after the sun sets and the moon rises.” I knew the boys would relish the idea of a night excursion.
“Yippee!! Can we go take a look at the creek first, Grandma? Can we Grandpa?” They had not yet examined the results of their rock-hauling labor last year, nor the follow-on creek.
“Sure, just no poking around. You can only get familiar with the layout. Leave the gold panning and silver mining for later, okay?”
“You bet!” Out the door they fly, us knowing full well they will abide by their grandfathers command.
“Mom, once again you two have outdone yourselves. You have a good knack for making us look like we impoverish their lives!” Tony chides, arm around my waist.
“You and I used to do a lot of the same things, Tony. Only your dad (Tony always considered Barney his dad) seems to come up with better and better means of entertainment these days. We used to do treasure hunts, as well as building mud cities.” I answer back.
“I know, mom, I know. And Jeanster and I do try, even with our busy schedules.” Tony and Jeannie own a construction company. She is just as handy with a hammer as my son, and a much more competent engineer. Tony would agree. “We plan at least one entire weekend with just the four of us doing something interesting, and we all take turns coming up with an idea.”
“Momma,” Jeanster inserts, “you would have been so proud of Jeff. His suggestion last month was to go on an archeological dig! Can you believe it! We contacted the local city college and were able to attend one of their outings. I’ve never seen so many dang bugs in my life, and I got bit by fire ants!”
I laugh, knowing Jeannie’s dislike of bugs. After conversing another hour, the boys wearily return from their exploration, my son and his wife decide to spend the night. They, too, caught the excitement of participating in the boys mining expedition. Tony offers to help me make up the guest room, which I gladly accept as it allows us a few precious moments of alone time. I cherish these quality moments with my boy, giving me an opportunity to vocalize my appreciation of his accomplishments, primarily in marrying well and producing two cherished boys for me to dote. Finished with our mutual admiration moment, we scurry back to join Jeannie and Barney – embroiled in a conversation about her latest project. She often seeks counsel with her father-in-law, whose knowledge based extends well beyond flying.
Jeff and Jack zonk out in front of the television set, enamored in a Harrison Ford action movie. We adults decide to laze around, maybe sneak in a nap, as we anticipate a late night adventure encouraging the boys in their quest for riches.
By nine o’clock afternoon naps had been taken by all followed by a light dinner of fresh salmon, brown rice, and a walnut-blue cheese salad with dishes washed and put away. The sun had set behind the golden hills forty-minutes earlier, dusk finally giving way to a dark starry night until the full moon began poking it’s way above the trees. The boys had not simply sat around and waited, instead had busied themselves with preparations and planning. Should they work together or separately? Should they share or keep their own findings? Should they rush and try and find as much as possible, or work slowly saving some treasure for another day of exploration?
“We’re ready Grandpa!” Jeff excitedly announces.
“Okay boys, we’re off!”
Both scamper past the patio area, past the garden, to the beginning point of the creek. They opt to work together and share in the rewards. Taking turns holding a flashlight, the boys soon realize the shiny gold and silver paint reflects well in the beam – something neither Barney nor I anticipated.
“Dang! I didn’t think about that!” Barney’s disappointment in not making the task as difficult as he intended reflects in his voice, but his discouragement is soon countered as he hears Jack’s announcement a few minutes later.
“Oh Grandpa, this is so much fun! I’ve never had so much fun in my entire life!”
We laugh at Jack’s assessment of an “entire life”. What more can we offer our children and grandchildren but to teach them responsibility and accountability in a pleasurable and entertaining way? Why burden them with seriousness or make work daunting and dour? Life’s far too short to spend grumpy. There will always be tasks we find tedious and work we find unappealing, yet no sense in making ourselves miserable over them.
By the end of the evening, closer to midnight than I’m used to seeing awake, the boys finally tire and are ready to call it a night. Pails are half filled with silly stones, and the boys are ready for golden dreams in their silver lined lives.
Weary from the day of travel and adventure, Jeff hugs me tight. “Oh grandma, I’m so happy to be here.”
Yes, the world is right for now. Very, very right.
Diana, I can't tell you how much I enjoyed this write. I can tell you are a very interesting lady, completely in love with life and I look forward to reading more of your work.
(Love you bio, too!)
Jean
It's almost Christmas. Lynn Basil is writing her last book about a secret entrance into the magical doll land of Sha Bebe that she loves so much. Bagannos have taken over the world! Lynn finally meets her dolls in real life. Can she write in a Secret
It's almost Christmas. Lynn Basil is writing her last book about a secret entrance into the magical doll land of Sha Bebe that she loves so much. Bagannos have taken over the world! Lynn finally meets her dolls in real life. Can she write in a Secret
“Grandma!” The two boys explode through the front door like twin tornados. I know they’re coming, but the ferociousness always surprises me.
