One Less Reader

I lost a blog reader Tuesday morning.

Jean Irma New (1924-2008) went to be with Jesus.

She was my last living grandparent. We loved her and will miss her very much. And we will hold on to some very fond memories of her. For me, they are memories like some of these…..

Playing untold numbers of games with her as a kid – mostly Scrabble and Boggle. The Scrabble game was the deluxe edition, with ridges to keep tiles in place on a turntable board. It was only the best Scrabble for Grandma. I don’t think a deluxe edition of Boggle existed, but Grandma did have to line the inside of the lid with felt to reduce the racket of the cubes bouncing around. I don’t know if Grandma ever went out of her way to let me win games – but it never mattered. She was spending time with me and instilling in me an appreciation for words.

Spending summer days with her – playing Old Maid and swimming at the pool of whichever apartment complex she called home at the time.

Periodically receiving from her some really odd gifts. Like for my 21st birthday – a special turning-of-age celebration for many young men – when she presented me with a boxed set of Hickory Farms summer sausage and smoked cheese. Or like the awful Pierre Cardin cologne (that smelled like brussel spouts if I remember correctly) that she gave me one Christmas curiously shrinkwrapped inside a coffee mug – only to have her buy me the exact same cologne and mug again the very next Christmas.

And speaking of Christmas, I have fond memories of spending nearly every Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with her. We would pick her up from work or home and she would stay the night with us. She would join in as my sister and I always begged to open just one Christmas present on Christmas Eve. And she was usually good to accept or pass along any designated gag gifts (usually a coconut head like this one or crocheted smiley face) whenever it was her turn.

All these times (and others) with Grandma were great times. She was a wonderful lady to be around. She did have a knack for saying and doing some of the darndest things, though.

Like claiming she had never had a headache in her life. Ever.

Like announcing that Kung Fu was her favorite television show.

Like trying to walk smooth through a plate glass door at a store – colliding with quite a racket and drawing a little blood on her face – and then complaining that the store owner kept his glass doors too clean.

Like suggesting to Shanda and I that there was a “way we could be sure to have a boy” the next time we tried to get pregnant – only to be pretty embarrassed when I openly asked her to elaborate.

Like often laughing so hard that she would start coughing and have to wave her hand down at us to stop just so she could catch her breath.

Like abruptly changing perfectly normal conversations at the oddest of times and to the oddest of things – to Meerkat Manor or some other show she had been watching recently.

Like proudly purchasing Zamfir cassettes and making us listen to the pan flute over dinner. Seriously. Zamfir. Come to think of it, I think she may have had some Boxcar Willie, too.

In addition to these events, I remember some of the ways in which Grandma has influenced me. She had a hand in shaping me into the person I am today. From listening to her stories as a nurse on a drug/alcohol inpatient unit, I think I learned something about being both merciful and firm with people who are hurting and need help. I’m sure some of my stubbornness (and my general reluctance to ever admit I’m wrong) comes from Grandma. From her I learned to prefer real butter over margarine and to generously apply pepper to most of my foods. From her I learned to appreciate Peanuts comic strips and all things Norman Rockwell.

Grandma, we are glad for your homegoing, but will miss you dearly. I’ll hold on to these good memories and others until we see each other again.