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| Me and my Grandma kickin' back at my goddaughter's Baptismal luncheon, after a LBI beach vacay with other family. I lived in Denver at the time. |
My grandparents famously told all of their children and heirs apparent that they would get no money from them after they died, because they were going to spend it all, and I (for one) laughed the loudest at that. Shit, man, they gave their childhoods to work in the city, so that their dependent immigrant families wouldn't starve during The Great Depression, forestalling their own dreams about education and travel to send their four children to college. Of course, I had serious doubts about the logic behind funding four spoiled kids who were (and still are) almost completely inept at times, but I admired their effort.
My Grandpa humped underground for ConEd for more friggin' years than he cared to count, so when he and my Grandma told everyone at family get-togethers they inherited a condo out in Cali that they wanted to sell to spend on trips, I loved the idea behind it. I can't think of two more self-sacrificing people in the world who deserved a really good party away from the crazy kids and grandkids than my two maternal grandparents. They were the glue that kept their dysfunctional brood together, having almost no respite from birth to elder status, except for their senior escapes with the local Senior Citizens Club that my Grandpa was so avid about.
So they sold some condo that they'd never seen to go on some real trips. It was fun getting swept up in their excitement. They got awesome AARP discounts that my Grandpa liked to brag about, which was well-earned several times over, for their more than 60+ years of paying into the system. And they want everywhere: Morocco, Alaska, Hawaii, South America...if they could cruise to it or fly to it, they'd go. They both had iron seaworthy constitutions, never getting seasick even under threat of capsizing in the middle of some great ocean.
Then, they'd come back to show us their fun photos, like dining at the Captain's table, or ballroom dancing the night away, and the huge buffet that was there whenever they wanted. I loved it all; the excitement in my grandmother's eyes when she shopped for her glamorous evening dress, so deserved for a woman who had worked at a factory as a very young woman so that her family could eat. I couldn't think of a better reward for all their years of loyal familial service than dancing the night away and eating whatever they wanted to, whenever they wanted, without having hungry mouths to feed, or someone whining about that evening's meal.
Compared to all the hard times and heartache they had had in their long lives together, the right to live out loud and without prejudice seemed like justice had finally come into my grandparent's lives for the first time in their lives, and at just the right time, when they had the time, health, and money to do it. They taught me how to not be some typical ugly American tourist, but to learn something about the country I was visiting beforehand, like those cultures shown in the bright glossy brochures we would pour over happily with them, along with the audio tape or language book my Grandpa bought, so he could at least order dinner at the table for them both in the lingua franca, and do native people the courtesy of saying "hello", "goodbye" and "thank you" to them in their own language.
They taught me how to live, and how to live well. I'm so grateful that I saw them make themselves happy for once, instead of it always being the other way around. We so rarely had those times together on our own. Happy travels this summer, and don't just "go away" someplace to spend time and money because of your own personal boredom, but have a ball. I know my grandparent's did. Live well.
