Just Another Evening with Gramps and Grandma

I couldn’t wait to do it all over again tomorrow

“Supper was good, Grandma, thanks,” I said, pushing in my chair. I wasn’t naturally polite but grandma’s lectures on manners and mom’s gentle encouragements helped. Dinner was never fancy. On that night it was just tuna gravy over biscuits, a staple and a favorite.

“Thanks. I wish you grandpa would say that sometimes,” she replied as she glared his way. He heard her but didn’t respond. Impaired hearing came in handy as an excuse sometimes.

Gramps and I retired to the living room while grandma cleared and rinsed the plates. In retrospect, leaving grandma to clean up after preparing and serving the meal wasn’t fair. We should have helped. But those were different times, or at least the way we did it.

Gramp’s chair was placed directly in front of the television, about ten feet back. Grandma’s chair also faced the television but sat behind grandpa's and to the right. It was an odd arrangement, looking back. But I guess a strategic move on gramps’s part. He didn’t have to look at or speak with grandma. And Grandma didn’t seem to mind. She didn’t much want to speak with him and was able to survey the goings on at all times.

I sat with gramps in his recliner as he watched Walter Cronkite’s simple and eloquent delivery of the news. I listened intently, often confused, and sometimes asked questions during commercial breaks. Gramps would explain and offer opinions. Grandma didn’t hesitate to grunt in disapproval or offer contrary ideas. It seemed at times this was the extent of their communication.

After the news gramps and I spent the next half hour or so playing. Bionic man, hide and go seek, lava, and other iconic playtime events. It wasn’t uncommon for him to crawl on all fours as I rode his back or hid as still as possible under the bed. I believed if I closed my eyes, he couldn’t see me.

Playtime was followed by a review of the “funny papers.” Gramps would read them to me, and then I to him, as he sipped on his Pabst Blue Ribbon beer. If I was lucky, he would allow me a sip or two. Grandma grunted at that too.

Snacks and primetime television or reading or a board game with grandma finished off the evening before mom arrived to take me home.

As we drove away, I couldn’t wait to do it all over again tomorrow.

Those were the days.