GRANDMA"
IS NOT A
FOUR-LETTER
WORD
by
Mariane
Holbrook
I
had just taken
a hot shower
and fallen
into bed after
papering the
bathroom,
raking the
lawn, making 3
pecan pies,
rearranging my
cupboards,
cleaning the
fridge,
vacuuming the
car, driving
400 miles,
cooking dinner
for twelve and
hand scrubbing
the driveway,
when the phone
rang. (I
hadn't
actually done
any of those
things but my
tired body
felt like it.)
"Can
you talk? I
need some
advice. I'm a
wreck," I
heard when I
fumbled to put
the receiver
upside down to
my ear.
The
breathless
caller was a
young internet
friend from a
western state
who had not a
clue about
time zones and
that it was
now 2:30 a.m.
at my house.
She felt, to
get my
attention and
endear herself
to me, every
phone call
must be a
gut-wrenching,
heart-racing,
knee-shaking
CRISIS.
She
had, according
to her,
experienced
every
conceivable
illness in the
world except
Parvo, had
suffered every
human
indignity
known to
primitive and
civilized man,
and endured
the worst
marriage since
Adam screamed
at Eve
"You
dork! I said I
wanted banana
pudding, not
apple
pie!"
But
tonight Crisis
#117 was real
to my friend.
"My
daughter just
called from
Kansas. She's
expecting a
baby in 8
months. I'm
worried SICK,
SICK,
SICK."
"What's
wrong with
her?" I
gasped,
sitting
upright in my
bed. "Is
she ok? Is the
baby all
right?"
"No,
it's not that.
She's fine. I
just don't
know what to
have my new
grandchild
call me."
"Oh
my," I
thought.
"Host a
global
conference.
Good
grief."
But
I held my
tongue and
said sweetly,
"What do
you want to be
called?"
"Well,
I'm only 49
and I do NOT
want to be
called
"Grandma."
It's so old
fashioned!
"Mee-Maw"
and
"Pee-Paw"
are
possibilities.
Those are the
two most
popular names
on the
internet.
She
continued,
"Booma
and Boopa"
are out. They
sound too much
like a
marching band.
"Ka-boom,
ka-boom,"
I muttered.
"What
do you call
your
grandmother
and
grandfather?"
I asked,
rolling my
eyes.
"Oh
I can't have
my grandchild
calling me
THAT. We call
them "Goo-Goo"
and
"Grumpy."
I want
something
different,
something nice
that will
stand out so
they'll
remember
me," she
confessed.
"I
thought of
Grandmere and
Grandpere."
"Are
you
French?"
I asked,
filing my
nails, so
absorbed in
the
conversation.
"No,
but there
might be some
French blood
several
generations
back. Who
knows? I've
considered 'Mahmoo','
MeeMee' 'Gigi-Wigi',
and 'Angel.'
Maybe even
'Princess.'
I
thought of
suggesting
'Queen Of The
Universe' but
decided
against.
"Well,
my dear
friend,"
I sighed,
putting away
my nail file.
"This is
all very
interesting
but could we
talk about
this later,
maybe in about
8
months?"
"Oh
sure. I just
wanted to get
your input.
You're a
writer, you've
met people, I
knew you'd
have some
great ideas. I
want my
grandchildren
to always
think of me as
young and
vibrant and
interesting,
not an old
fogy, not some
old-fashioned
woman with her
hair in a bun,
wearing an
apron covered
with pastry
flour. By the
way, what do
your
grandchildren
call
you?"
"GRANDMA!"
I laughed and
hung up the
phone.
A
rose by any
other name is
still………(you
got it!)
