When I Grow Up, I Want to be a Granny

I wrote this little blurb for my sister to read at my granny's funeral. I was unfortunately unable to attend. I thought I'd post it now, as this week would have been Granny's birthday, and I'm missing her...



When I grow up, I want to be a granny.

Being a granny takes more, you see, than collecting grandchildren to gather at my knees in my rocking chair. In fact, there may never be a rocking chair. There simply won't be time for sitting that still. There's too much to do. For being a granny is something of a job, and if there's one thing my mother taught me, it's that if you're going to do a job, you should do it right. Give it 100%. I'll need to be the best granny I can be. So, much of the time, my rocker will sit empty while I'm dancing to Lawrence Welk in front of the living room telly. I might wiggle so much my shorts will slip off my skinny batoot and slide to my ankles, and make my granddaughters dissolve into hysterical laughter. I'll be busy winding up the infinite stash of bath toys I'll keep in the bathtub. Though Grampa may complain about constantly stepping on them when he showers, it'll be worth it to take my grandkids to the imaginary ocean in my bathtub. I'll spend lots of time teaching them how to play checkers on a handmade barrel checker board I keep in the spare room, or how to dress and undress their dollies. I'll jingle all the bells of my three-shelf collection to see which ones are their favorites each visit. Of course, sometimes the grandchildren won't come to me, so Grampa and I will whisk them away from our own kids for a night here and there. We'll tuck the grandkids' warm, jammied bodies past their bedtime into our heated backseat and take the long way home, driving endless star-speckled country roads to lull them into sweet dreams. If that doesn't work, I'll slip them some "magic" brandy into a glass of milk to do the trick. As a granny, I'llbe all about family time. I'll relish gatherings around a Thanksgiving table, and know that the gratitude prayers of my heart will be the music of the voices of the children and grandchildren that surround me. They will be the rewards of the harvest I will have sowed so many years past. I'll giggle and clap at the antics of my talented grandkids as they dress up, sing, and dance for me. Their laughter will be the fuel for my happiness.

Should life dole out any bittersweet trips to hospital beds or funeral homes, I'll gather all those children and grandchildren close to me because their bodies will bring me comfort and that happiness they've fostered, along with our shared history will give us all strength. I'll take times like that as an opportunity to teach my grandkids that family is the heartbeat that gives us life and sustains us, even after our last breath has left our bodies. In teaching them, I'll learn this lesson again myself.

Naturally, my grandchildren will have lives of their own, like their parents did before them. So, I'll have to occupy myself in between visits. I'll be sure to meet with my girlfriends each week at McDonald's for cheap coffee and delicious gossip. We'll trade kids' pictures and stories of their accomplishments with pride and passion beyond what any Olympic gold medalitst's grandmother could cook up.

I'll take time to have my girlfriends color my hair a nice shade of pink or off-lavender in their cracked kitchen sinks, wearing one of Grampa's old work shirts over the new blouse and britches I found at the thrift store the previous day. The girls and I will gripe about the ridiculous prices they're charging nowadays down at the beauty parlour while we nibble on Elizabeth's homemade loaf cake and sip coffee sugared with the packets McDonald's wanted us to take. Perhaps once in awhile I'll be lucky enough to have a grandchild tag along for these appointments. I'll tell Elizabeth that the child would like another piece of cake or candy, then take a second one myself so the poor child doesn't have to eat alone.

When I'm a granny, I'll sip Grasshoppers just because they taste so good, even if they make me swoon at mass the next morning. I'll collect beautiful porceline dolls, but even at age 90, the old Raggedy Ann that sleeps on my bed will still be my favorite. I'll snowbird to Florida if I want to escape the miserable snow and cold, and then complain about the unbearable heat and humidity. But I'll get up at the crack of dawn to comb the beach for seashells, which I will glue artfully onto mirror gifts for the relatives back home I'm counting the days to see.

Now, as a granny I may bitch a lot about the state of the world (which, by the way, will certainly be going to hell in a handbasket), and the politics of a conspiring government (which wasn't like this in my day), but that will only be because I'll finally be old and wise enough to understand how it all works, but too damned old to do anything much about it. I may grump from time to time, or tell tall tales, but really, who cares? No one listens to an old lady anyway. No one respects their elders the way we respected our elders. Besides, I will certainly be entitled to complain in cases like where the damn doctor, who won't know anything, won't give me something for the pneumonia I've caught which he's diagnosed as a common cold.

But mostly, as a granny I intend to laugh. I will want my children and grandchildren to know that no matter how hard life has been, no matter what obstacles have stood in the way of dreams, no matter what heartaches, heartbreaks, or tragedies have brought you to your knees, there is still laughter to be had, still happiness to be found. I'll embrace second or third chances at love because I'll want to teach them that you're never too old for new beginnings, and that love comes in many different packages.

Someday, if I'm blessed enough to become a granny, I will take some time to rest in that rocking chair for a few moments, with all my grandchildren quilted on my lap. I'll take some time to tally all the names I've acquired, the honored titles I've achieved: Mommy, Mom, Mother. Grandma, Granny, Nana. Great Grandma. Sister, Aunt, Wife. Friend. These will be my badges of honor. I'll count all the dreams I did have come true in my life in the faces of my children, my grandchildren, my greatgrandchildren. For this will be my legacy. They will be the reason I'll stay around so long: to watch my wishes grow wings and take flight, to pack a suitcase full of memories and stories of those beautiful butterflies to take with me on that next mystery tour. I'll want to share the good days with those loved ones who weren't around to appreciate the moments with me.

Yes, when I grow up, I want to be a granny. Not to count the children at my knees, but to look backwards and see just how big the love inside me could grow to be.

We love you, Granny Schleeter-Sackett, our own Grandma Root Beer, our Idabelle. Thank you for making us your wishes come true. We will always miss you.