Things I've Learned Driving My Grandmother To Bingo

For the first time in over a decade, I am without summer employment. In light of this, I have let my family know that if there is anything they would like me to do around the house, whether it is cooking, cleaning, or any other household chore, it would be done no questions asked. My mother, being the clever person she is, has given me the charge of taking my grandmother to bingo twice a week every week. Here are some of the things she has taught to me during the twenty minute drive to bingo:

Things were a lot different “back then”

You ever hear an old person talk about “back then?” They are referring to a time when homosexual were probably tied up in basements until they starved the gay out of them. They are also referring to a time where my grandmother’s cigarettes, her beloved Marlboro Light 100’s were not taxed heavily and it was socially acceptable for her to blow smoke in an infants face if she felt like it. Now it seems, she has a real problem with standing outside to smoke a cigarette when she goes out “due to the osteo” as she puts it, referring to her increasingly brittle bones.

The Town of Randolph, Massachusetts was a great town until “coloreds” moved in.

I’m not saying for one second that I believe a word of this, but Nana is steadfast in her belief that Randolph, Massachusetts was a cultural and intellectual Mecca before “the element” as she calls them came to town. She also told me three times in a ten minute car ride that prior to the seventies, Randolph had the best high school in the state; something I’m sure she is very proud of despite lack of evidence. Now, you must understand that when my grandmother refers to “coloreds” she is not referring to black people, or any one specific group at all, just people who don’t look like her. I was quick to point out that her own parents came to this country on the same boat as everybody else from Ireland and Austria. She, however, was not receptive to this point and quickly changed the subject asking me if I remembered to put her Wheel of Fortune bag with her “dobbers” in it in the car.

Miracle Whip Sucks

My grandmother claims that she makes the best potato salad (pronounced "puh-day-duh") in the entire known universe. However, in making her puhdayduh salad, she has found that if she is to use Miracle Whip instead of straight mayonnaise, there is a profound difference in taste and texture. Evelyn is so cross with the Miracle Whip people for screwing up her trademark potato salad that she told me "I'd never buy it again, even if it was on sale." You have to understand that this is a woman who would buy plutonium if it was on sale. She would buy cancer and attempt to use it for something if it were only on sale or there was a coupon for it. So, her saying she wouldn't buy Miracle Whip "even if it was on sale" is earth-shattering. Evelyn has more fun with sale items and coupons than the autistic kid across the street has with his sprinkler.

World War II Was a Pain in the Ass For Everybody, Not Just Soldiers.

Many young men sacrificed their lives in this war. My own grandfather sustained injuries and received a Purple Heart for serving his country. My grandmother, wife to aforementioned grandfather, just saw it as a complete inconvenience to her. Her husband was gone, and she had to join the Coast Guard and work a reception desk for a couple of years while he was gone just to pay the bills. Naturally, I felt for her and apologized for everybody at that time for making her answer phones.

My Father Is an Asshole

This has proven to be the main focus of our conversations. About three years ago, my grandmother came to live with my parents and sister. A new apartment was built in our basement to house her, and people generally go out of their way for her when she needs something. Bear in mind, this is a lady who refuses to drive at night (because of the cataracts), Will call me on the phone to bring her a soda when I’m a flight of stairs above her (again, because of the osteo), and has told me more than once to move my car in the driveway from “her spot.” Still, I do my best to be nice to her and take care of things when I have to. Still, the one person in the house who is unflinchingly rigid in his dealings with my grandmother is my father. I know that there is a cliché in this society where men all hate their mother-in-law, and if you don’t believe that is true, come to the Davey house for dinner one night. It’s amazing. I have never seen one person complain so much about the other one and neither of them really speaks to each other. I only wish any of you can be in the room when my grandmother refers to my family as “you people” and my father as “him” when he is standing five feet from her.

“I Don’t Have To Be Nice To Anybody”

All of the things I mentioned above culminate with this quote directly from Evelyn, my grandmother. On a recent three-hour shopping trip, my grandmother badgered every single employee of Shaws, haggling over prices and disputing the validity of coupons. Pushing the cart behind her, I found myself apologizing to everybody as we passed them. Seriously, the fifteen year-old girl behind the deli counter is probably going to need counseling after the tirade Nana went on after her cold cut party platter was not ready at the specified time. Still, I felt it was my job to do damage control. As I mouthed “I’m so sorry” to the girl, my grandmother whipped around and said “Don’t apologize to her.” I inquired as to why she felt the need to be a complete C to this girl and she said with the utmost severity in her voice: “I’m old. I don’t have to be nice to anybody. People should do what I want.” Needless to say, I peed in my pants a little, put my head down and pushed the cart.

As I get older, I hope that I’m more and more like Evelyn, a woman who can say and do whatever she wants to whoever she wants without fear of repercussion. I hope that one day I can yell at young people, refer to my own family as “you people” and hate everything on the planet except bingo and the Game Show Network. My real goal in life is now not to make millions of dollars or to win the Nobel Prize. Instead, I’ve learned from Nana that there are far greater things in this world for an “angry elf” such as myself. I hope to one day be just ill-tempered enough that people will ignore me, even the hot orderly at the nursing home who I will assuredly feel-up at every chance I get. So raise your glass of prune juice and toast big. Here’s to getting old and hating everything about everyone.

Drink Ensure,

R Von D