The Wrinkle Cream Viewpoint, Second Generation

There are many things that I cherish about my grandmother but, most of them are within me.  They are not material things but, rather the memories that she left with me…the times that we spent together, the weekends that I got to stay with her and the wonders of being a kid who had a grandmother with a great sense of down-to-earth humor as many of you might see in her own posts and words in her archived pieces. 

It would take her forever to type out her blog entries and as she’s written about in one entry, it used to confound her that people were liking her blog entries but, not really reading them.  She never did get the hang of the idea that bloggers like other’s blogs so as to be “liked back”. 

I used to watch her, sitting at her used desk top computer, typing with 2 fingers, her nose nearly up to the screen.  Her eyes were deteriorating with Macular Degeneration, leaving her only “keyhole” vision.  Laboriously and meticulously, she’d search the keypad on her keyboard for the letters, hitting one at a time until she’d spelled out the word, then hit the space bar raising her hand as though each word typed was a victory.  For her, it was but gawd, it was painful to watch. 

I used to say to her, “let me type it for you and you dictate,” to which she’d respond, “they’re my *%#ing words, I’m going to type them.” 

Nana minced no words.  If she felt like swearing, she’d swear.  If she felt like giving us all a piece of her mind, she did.  When she was in a bad mood, (which was rarely more than a few moment’s worth), she let herself be in one and would quickly get out of it again. 

I can remember her clearly when she was frustrated or mad.  Her eyes would squint and her crooked index finger would come up and point right at whomever or whatever she was ticked at.  There was no doubting that she was miffed at you or whatever or whomever and, if she was good and mad, you’d hear a string of “cuss words” as she called them, tumble out of her mouth with ease.  Like a tornado, as quickly as her anger came, it left and, she was asking if you wanted tea. 

One day, I dropped by unexpectedly, only to find her, sitting at her kitchen table on her antiquated computer, pecking out one of her blog entries.  Her hearing was close to being gone and she refused to turn up the volume so as to hear so, I walked in normally, calling out her name but, she didn’t hear me and kept right on typing. 

“Oh, Nana,” I said, tapping her on the shoulder lightly to let her know I was there.  “You really should let me get you a laptop so that you don’t have to sit just at the kitchen table.  You could even write your blog from your bed if you wanted.” 

She shooed me off as though I was crazy, saying, “why the bloody hell would I want to be in bed doing this?  I go to bed to sleep, not to live my life in there.  And, no…I don’t want another computer.  I’m just getting used to this one.  Now, where the hell is the apostrophe key?”

Because I had set up this blog on my account so that I could check it over for her before she posted it, I’d often get sworn at as well. 

“You changed my words around,” she’d say, with a lot more verve than I am repeating right now for ratings purposes.  “I type in what I’m thinking and that’s the way that I talk.  Don’t change it!” 

Knowing that I had to at the least, remove a few “cuss words”, I’d try to explain that the way she wanted to say things, might come across as offensive to others who might potentially read it.  She thought for a moment then, replied, “No one reads the *#%ing thing anyway, so why can’t I say what I want to say, the way that I want to say it?”

I stopped editing her words for the most part after that because she’d re-read every single word that was posted and give me hell if I’d changed anything.  She did, however, become a little better at toning it down. 

I’ve just re-read her entries before posting this one and I smiled…and, admittedly, cried a bit.  I miss her terribly and will likely always miss her.  She was a huge part of my life.  She was like a second mother to me. 

So, please excuse me if I carry on her blog in the manner that I know would be hers or by using her words in the way that she’d say them.  It may sometimes, be a little rough around the edges but, it will be the way that she was….strong spirited and, no façade.  It will be, just like her and, now that I’m closing in on the near 60 crowd, I’m finding myself also joining The Wrinkle Cream Viewpoint as well. 

I suppose….I’m going to become The Wrinkle Cream Viewpoint, Second Generation as she’s left me her legacy. 

 

 

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