I love my Grandma. She is your typical Depression Era grandma. She bakes cookies and pies. She eats all of her vegetables out of a can. She sews quilts. When she can't think of what to get me for mybirthday, she sends a check for $10. She walks a little slow, is a bit hunched over and has short, curly grandma hair.
My grandmother, who has been married to the same man for 65 years, is a wonderful and loving person. I would shot myself in the eye before ever saying or doing anything that would cause her any type of heartache.
My grandmother, growing up during the Depression Era, has a very different view of what life is like compared to our generation. So many of us don't understand this mentality. I don't get the mentality. But because of my grandparents, I have learned to shut my mouth and ignore a lot of what they say.
Every time my grandma comes to town, she feels that this is her chance to break away from my grandfather and explore her food options. She
loves food, all food-especially if she doesn't have to cook it. We leave grandpa at home with his
Spam, and we go out on a food adventure!
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| "No hunny, not tonight!" |
I ask my grandma the day they get to town if she would like to go to lunch with me the next day. We started off at this little local Tex Mex place that has amazing 'queso'. We order, they bring too much food, we eat what we can, and take the rest in a box. The check comes and my grandmother, being the generous person that she is, picks up the check and says to me:
"Honey, don't worry about it, its my treat!"
me: "Oh grammy, but I invited you to lunch, I will get it"
"No honey, I got it."
I quit fighting her. Grandma leaves a $2 tip, and I rush her out the door before the server notices the 5% tip.
Remember, Depression Era Grandma.
On the drive home, my grandma is alerting me, "honey, the light is red," "honey, the light is green", "honey, in the lane next to you, there is a car". I, of course, vow, that during our next food adventure, grandma isn't going to stop
me from paying!
Thanks to grandma's back-seat driving, we arrive home safe and sound. I decide to address the 'whole who pays the bill' and say, "Grammy, thanks so much for lunch! That was really nice, but next time I am paying."
To this she responds, "Oh honey, your welcome, its OK, you don't have to worry about paying. I know that you are financially embarrassed."
My mouth dropped to the floor. Financially embarrassed! What do you even say to that? I have never even heard of that before!!! Financially Embarrassed? After regaining my composure, I started laughing. And I laughed for about 10 minutes while my grandmother looked on, puzzled.
"Is that how you see me?? As financially embarrassed?"
Grandma says, "Oh, I know you don't have much money." And, this, of course, is true.
I had nothing left to say, 'cause she was right! I can justify spending $300 on a pair of shoes, just like she can justify spending $12,000 on a sewing machine.
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My Grandma in the 50's
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I suppose the only thing I can think of is that the Depression Era generation is embarrassed as to how our generation spends money. Embarrassed about how much debt we are in and how we use credit for everything. They are not embarrassed about our tattoos, piercings or the fact that we live with our boy/girlfriends before we get married, like I always thought. But to them, it is our obsession to buy stuff they view as useless as an embarrasment.
My grandmother made her own clothes growing up and she still does today. My grandparents live in a house that my great-grandparents built in 1930's. A house that was paid for in
cash. My grandparents use cash for
everything. They don't live paycheck to paycheck like most of us do. They don't buy fancy things or go to fancy restaurants. To some, I suppose this would be a boring life, but they have the security of knowing that they don't need life insurance to help their spouse financially for the rest of there lives after they die. They have the money, they have saved the money, and they will have something to give to their children when they die. In fact, they prepaid their funeral plots in
cash, many years ago.
So, in conclusion, Thank You Grammy, for the slap in the face and the good laugh.
Margot
Love you Grammy, forever.
Margot
