An Introduction Part Deux

Is my heart on my sleeve? Always. So,without further ado, I invite you to take a drive with me through a fascinating part of my life right now with some incredible people in Greenwich...

Last weekend was perfect. Last Saturday, one of my bff's-for-life invited me out on the town for an Irish pub crawl or, maybe it was called the Irish Stroll in downtown NYC. Was it awesome? Yes. Did I feel far too old to partake in it? Yes. And yet somehow, I felt alive, young, and obscenely ridiculous--which I believe is how life should be a lot of the time. It's more like, middle-school immaturity with beer. Silly. Pure silliness. If you know me, you can attest to this.

I came home late, took an 11 o'clock train from Grand Central Station, and fell asleep...awaking at the kick of an irritated conductor's foot in the leg to get up and out in Stamford. Thank GOD Stamford was the next town over so I snagged a cab and hurried home...to the safety and warmth of one of the twin beds in my cozy upstairs room in my grandparents home. I slept until ten, then made breakfast and read The NY Times, naturally. The day was off to a good start, this Sunday. Grandpa came downstairs still wearing his robe, just his robe. Merry, jolly, and ho-hum singing all the way. This is my grandpa. He has to be one of the most laid back 91-year-old men you'll ever meet. Especially a 91-year-old who doesn't remember the conversation he just had with you moments ago. But he can tell you he had children, he had a dog named Pal and a crow growing up named Inky Inky. He can tell you he worked in NYC, and that he had a house in Breezy Point, NY (a skinny stretch of ocean beachfront to NYC's outer harbor. I initially thought it was an island until I was corrected). He knows his parents' names, he knows his father was an important architect, and that he himself worked with the great Maurice Sendak before Where the Wild Things Are, and you can bet he knows it's time for a glass of wine at 5 o'clock.

So...going back to that morning. Grandpa came down and after Fanny, his wife, told him to, he went back upstairs to put on clothes. 

"Lucy doesn't need to see you in just a robe! Go put on some clothes. Are you wearing underwear?!" 

After a quick assessment of the situation (my head turned towards the burner), "No! Go put on some clothes!"

Grandpa comes down an hour later with two pajama tops on, jeans, sailing shoes, and a grin. "George! TWO pajama tops, aye? Well, okay," says Fanny.

We eat breakfast, and Grandpa, who is probably the one and only single last gentleman in the world, asks, "Lucy, would you like to read the NY Times?" "No Grandpa, Thank you! I am still working on this section."

(Repeat above question/answer 3 times)

I throw on some clothes and decide that we need to go outside. It's daylight savings. I just changed all the clocks, and the sun is out in Connecticut. I'm thrilled. It's time to take Mr. Tubbers outside for a walk.I tell Grandpa and Fanny I'm going to mosey outside. Fanny follows me outside. We end up gardening. I've never gardened. I'm from Arizona. No reasoning needed. Mr. Tubbers can't believe he's allowed out and clings to the side of the house, he's never been allowed outside in his 3-4 years of life, so this is quite exciting. 

I learned how to use pruners. Mr. Tubbers, Fanny, and I broke up branches, clipped back bushes. Grandpa came out and helped and it all came naturally. He knows his home. He knows everything about what he's been doing for years and it felt good to be in the sun (He, like me, or rather, me, like him, are sun worshippers). After our work in the garden, we shared a beer, had lunch, and sunned with Mr. Tubbers on the porch. 

I noticed something profound. Something I've noticed several times since I moved here in October. He seems happier, more talkative, and overall satisfied after a day filled with activity. Pan over to my first Christmas in Connecticut--it was quite amazing. We spent Christmas Eve at Fanny's son and daughter-in-law's home. We had quite a dinner, drank lots of wine. We all sang old songs from the 30s/40s on the drive all the way home. Grandpa singing the loudest, naturally. Then, when we got home. the party continued with more music and Grandpa dancing with myself and Fanny. It was a truly epic moment in my life.

And, to close this post:

Last weekend's work and revitalization in the sun spurred his active humor and good spirit at dinner. He was jolly, joked about the cat Mr. Tubbers. And when it was time for bed, he said 

"Well, Lucy, we'll leave you to read your dirty books."

"Grandpa! Excuse me?"

"He he he."

"I gave that book to her, George. There is nothing dirty about it!" protested Fanny.

"I'm sure," he said. "That's how I know it's dirty! You gave it to her to read!" exclaimed Grandpa laughing himself into a coughing fit.

"I wish!" she said.