HEAD DESK!
Or in this case, antique dining room table. I was recently reminded just how lively (and quickly) table discussions can evolve and digress in my close and talkative family. We are straight and gay, social justice Democrat and fiscal Republican, 4 generations.
More than likely it began as a redundant listing of my food allergies (Mom cooked, and has this information down, but usually is trotted out for discussion whenever there are mass gatherings/mass food). This quickly moves the conversation to other allergies, including jewelry metals. My metal-healthy offspring chimes in with her list of desired peircings. My grandma may be tiny and is becoming more frail, but there ain't much wrong with her hearing.
Gramma: "When Grampa used to ask me why I never got my ears pierced, I always told him that if God had wanted extra holes in my head, He would have put them there!"
We've all heard this rendition 8,647 times, but elders are to be respected, especially when nearing 90 and feisty. What I had never heard before, for unknown reasons, was Grampa's reply: "And if God had wanted you to smoke, he would have put a chimney on your head." Everyone smoked back then, she quit over 30 years ago.
The same evening, likely within the next 5 minutes, my girl brought up her attire for her school's award ceremony. Boys must wear spring dress attire, girls "may" wear slacks, but it was insinuated by the teacher that prissy Easter dresses would be preferred. Gramma (the Other Gramma, my aforementioned knowledgeable Mom) to the rescue. Mom doesn't just get my food and other allergies, she gets non-prissy, she gets Girl Power. And my girl is not your average non-priss. We've had ripped jeans and grunge sweatshirts. We've had the hair: red, blue-ish, black and it's natural blonde back again. And we've had industrial bracelets and combat boots. Dad's combat boots.
She was given my Mom's fuschia silk blouse, and a purplish tapestry shawl to wrap and pin as a skirt. Add black leggings and the Boots. Enter great-Gramma "You're going to wear combat boots with those beautiful things?" No tone, no judgement, just familiar angst.
I patted her arm. "She'll be lovely, Gramma. We'll send you a picture." I can't post it per teenage consent, so picture Audrey Hepburn meeting up with Joan Jett. She was lovely.
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