Wednesday, September 10, 2008

Get Your Own YaYas Out!

Write about one of your grandparents using the style of David Sedaris, as discussed in class.  

47 comments:

Evan Riley said...

Whether we are at the store, eating at a fancy restaurant, or having a seafood boil at someones house; my grandpa either does not know when the line is crossed or does not care what comes out of his mouth. Po, as we all call him, is 82 with the same humorous temper as the 20 year old sailor he used to be. My grandma died during Hurricane Katrina, but 60 years of a faithfull marriage still couldnt hold the natural born MAC he is back. Now with his 62 year old girlfriend of about a year he is still full of energy going to the gym 5 days a week and out to eat and dance at night.
The scary thing is you never know when the good-hearted 82 year old man will go into a rant about the "god damn good for nothing workers" at home depot messing up his "god damn wall paper order" right in front of them. Now the "god damn waiters and waitresses" better watch out because if they overcook his "god damn steak one more god damn time, this will be the last time his ass will ever set foot here." And fishing, lets not even get started on fishing. All I'm going to say is that if you meet a well dressed old man with a fishing poll and tackle box out on the lakes and the "god damn wind feels like theres a god damn tornado blowing around", my advice is to stay away.

dtd dtd dtd said...

"Would you believe I killed a giant grizzly bear with a bb gun?" Uncle Ed leaned down at me, putting his big red nose up close to my face. I didn't know how to tell him that, despite the fact that I believed in unicorns and dragons, no, in fact, I did not believe him. I just wanted him to get his stinky fat cigar out of my face. So, I nodded. "Good, 'cause it's all true," he patted his fat wife on her fat ass as she walked by into the kitchen.
"Daddy, can I go outside and play?" I asked, eyeing my uncle warily. If I stayed inside, it was going to be grizzly bears and bb guns until dessert, and I just wanted some quiet. "Tracey, it's raining outside, and your uncle Ed never gets to see you. Go sit on his lap and ask him to tell you a story."
Ugh. I walked up to my uncle in his armchair, staring up through his giant knees at his giant bulbous head. "You love your uncle, don't you?" he asked, dropping ashes on to the arm of the chair.

jimmy egu said...

I guess age really is not nothing but a number. My grandfather is living evidence of this. He is 87 years old and still worksout and wakes up early in the morning to run. Actually when he is at my house, he wakes me up at 5 o'clock in the morning and says, "Get up so we can get a good workout in today." Its ridiculous the kind of energy he has at his old age. I remember seeing him laying on the floor doing sit ups. He must have done about 200 hundred of them. Then he turned over and started doing push ups. Afterwards the most surprising, fakest, weirdest thing happened. After he finished doing his push ups, he layed back on his back and flipped to his feet. I alomost jumped out of my drawers. That was something I never thought he would do.
A funny thing he would do often is look at himself in the mirror. I guess that's where I got that from. He would take off his shirt and look at his body and decide what body part he wanted to workout. Sometimes he would even flex in the mirror. I remember one time when I saw him doing that I said, "Be careful, I dont want you to blow a blood vessel and have to rush you to the hospital." He loves taking care of his body and he thinks he has the best body in the family. However, we all know that i have the best body but he is in excellent condition for his age. My grand father is the workout addict of the family.

JM Robinson said...

It never ceases to amaze me that after all these years my uncle matthew still has the temper of a terrible two year old.  My advice to anyone I know, when they are around him, to not do or say anything that would even remotely piss him off.  That is to say that many things that piss him off would be blown off by any body else.  Uncle Matt is 35 years old and lives in chicago.  He was in college when I was born and since he is the baby in the family, whenever he comes back home to Baton Rouge he has to have my grandmother's fried chicken. Well last time my grandmother didnt have the time to cook the fried chicken, and of course he through a fit.  Well earlier that day he had given my grandfather 50 bucks for his birthday.  While my Uncle Matt was taking a shower he obviously overheard my grandparents talking about his immaturity earlier that day.  He comes out withnothing but a towel  looking for my grandfather's wallet.  He finds the money and yell's across the room "well if ya'll are gonna bitch so much i'll be taking back my damn money! Oh and i'm using it to buy a plane ticket home! So suck on that!"  That's just one of the many examples why I would suggest to never piss off Matthew Robinson.

zach rhodes said...

Going from growing up dirt poor to being financially sound was a big transition for my grandparents to make, nevertheless they were still able to bring much of their pass with them to the present. Being raised on the wrong side of the tracks and only knowing how to speak Cajun French created many obstacles for both of my grandparents to over come. Yet they persevered and became stronger from their experiences. They tell me stories of times when the only thing they had to eat was sugar covered banana peels. My grandfather in particular went from living on the streets at a young age to being a prominent figure in the Louisiana Legislature. But even though my grandparents have achieved a great deal of success in their lives they still live as if they are dirt poor. Growing up with little or no food left my grandparents with what you could call an indifferent pallet. I’ve witnessed my grandmother cook everything from muskrats to raccoons, and not to mention eating every last bit. My grandfather to this day still demands that he brings his sardines and peanut butter with him everyday for lunch at our majestic capitol building. The one time that I was able to talk my grandfather into going out to eat with me, he revealed his inner coonass by ordering a lobster, removing the tail, putting the tail aside, and proceeding to eat the fat out of the head of the lobster with one of those tiny seafood forks as if it was a crawfish. After trying to stop this embarrassing table manor violation, my grandfather mutters to me in broken French and English, “pe kay twa its good.” Which roughly translates to “fuck you its good.” Although my grandparents may not be to most proper couple, they are the kindest and most loving people I ever had the honor of knowing. My grandmother always tells me what ever is in the past only makes you stronger for the future, and by knowing my grandparents past obstacles and present success, I can testify to that statement.

Cassie said...

The ball whistled through the air as my grandmother pitched it to the first baseman. As she turned she saw a very handsome man riding up on a white horse. Yea a white horse. Inspiration struck her as she ran and jumped on the horse that the man had just gotten off of. She raced it down the field laughing as the man ran after her. She slowed down as she heard "Hey what are you doing? Get off my horse." As she slowed that beautiful horse down as she got a good look at the handsome man. They were married a year later.
Maw maw was also pushing the envelope when it came to people, like the handsome man and his beautiful horse she did not stop to think what would happen she just did. When I was little I was completely in awe of this amazing woman who stole my grandfather’s horse and his heart.” I was at Hotel due in New Orleans when I met Einstein. In my twenties I was a scuba diver. When I was in my thirties I met Elvis in a random city at a hotel. He was a nice guy. I was fifty when I got my pilots license and fifty two when I went swimming with Flipper" she told me and all her other grandchildren. I later found out that all of these stories are true, except for maybe the thing about Einstein. "Cassie" she would tell me "You are my namesake." I was one of twenty nine grandchildren and I was the only one named after her. Mary Gayle and Cassandra Gayle. She was crazy in so many ways. She traveled a thousand places and helped a thousand people. I never understood who she really was until she wrapped her blue Pacifica around a tree when I was thirteen. "My mother was so scattered in so many ways that she never really was a mother to the seven of us. I had to demand she be one to me." My mom told me after her funeral. It was later that she found out her mother called her seven kids her seven little treasures. I never knew of that women who gave her youngest daughter a ring and took it back to give away a gift in an auction. I never knew of that woman who gave money to strangers and not her family. This woman was abrasive and loud whenever she wanted. This woman was different with her children than with her grandchildren. I understand now what my mother meant when she said that maw maw never really belonged to them but to the world. She was stubborn and understanding at the same time. She was never really ours but everyone else’s. Yet I love her still.

Corday Barnes said...

Oh My God! My Aunt Ingrid is acting an ass again. While everyone is in the church clapping and shouting a little loud, my Aunt Ingrid pulls out a whistle from out her purse and start blowing it loud and excessively. Who at the age of 43 carries a whistle in their purse? That’s my Aunt Ingrid though. Aunt Ingrid, 5’6, 160, brown skin tone, is known by the whole town of Edgard. She’s known by the whole town for a reason. She has a personality like no one else. It can be describe as loud, over dramatic, drama queen, but also loving and caring. Sometimes her over exaggerating personality can be useful. When we need someone to fuss someone down to lower a bill or something, we hand the phone to Aunt Ingrid. One instance, she was fussing at a bill collector. This time we didn’t know anything about it because my mother was out by her friend’s house and I was at school. My mother comes to pick me up and three minutes later we receive a phone call that a lot of police was searching around our house looking for someone. We found out information from my uncle’s wife who work in the courthouse about why they were there. What? They received a report that someone in the house is about to commit suicide! When we got home, the police had stop searching our house and I guess went back to doing there regular duties. We couldn’t find her anywhere and try calling her cell phone but no answer. We are not panicking too much because we know how Aunt Ingrid is but in the back of our minds, we are worrying crazy. Finally, we receive a phone call from her. She had told the company’s operator that she was about to commit suicide just to not pay a bill and the company’s operator had to report it to the police because it’s apart of their job. Now that’s taking it to far Ingrid. My Aunt Ingrid could be such a drama queen but I love her with all my heart.

Tiffany said...

"Every bird must one day spread it's wings and fly" My uncle must have never heard this phrase. He believes his nest is and will always be my garnny's house.
My grandfather passed away when my mom was a baby. Mame raised five children as a single mother in a four bedroom house with a well manicured lawn. Mame was a teacher and tried her hardest to raise confident, independent children. Well, I can not say she missed her mark, but if you saw my Uncle Skipper you would believe she was shooting blindfolded.
"Hey Miss Magna Doodle!" I knew my uncle had spotted me. He was drunkenly swaggering his way over with his crazy curly salt and pepper hair and frizzled beard and mustache to match. He called me Magna Doodle because when I was about five I accused him of breaking my toy that I loved so dearly.
Since I've been alive I've only witnessed my uncle go out and provide for himself one time. He quit about a day or two later. Maybe you could say he is going through a mid life crisis. He bathes whenever he sees fit, every two or three days. The man is fifty years old and parades around in this hip hop gear, that's stained and dirty from wearing over and over.
Every holiday, when he manages to get a few drinks we hear about his ultimate fight with the ghost that haunts Mame's house. His eyes would get a strange glassy deranged look and you knew he was out of it. " I couldn't see it but I could feel it, stalking me, teasing me! It called my name and just as I turned around it swung me a good one, right in the back of the head! Motherfu%^$# I'm not scared! I threw as many punches as I could!" He went on throwing expletives in while entertaining the kids.
Maybe my uncle is the little bird that was supposed to get pushed out of the nest.

GeraldSoder said...

Another Christmas meant another fantastic season’s greeting from my crazy ass Aunt Marlene. Marlene was a chubby, oval shaped woman who wore cheap designer clothes and pungent perfume. She lugged her seven cases of fake Louis Vuitton luggage around accompanied by her pleasantly plump Shitzu. She was my Mom’s cousin from California, and it was a ritual that Marlene sleep in my room when she came in. I was so blessed my Mother said that I get to spend time with my lovely aunt, and oh what a joy it was. “Mom the dog pissed on my carpet again,” was my annual protest. “ Gigi had a wittle accident? O momma’s poor bebe!,” Marlene exclaimed many times over. Gigi was a little priss of a pooch, like she new she had life easier than you, and indeed she did. She wore ribbons in her groomed bangs and looked much like Marlene frankly. The dynamic duo stayed usually a week at my house which seemed like a year. My room turned into a beauty salon so to speak with clothes hanging , and the scent of burnt hair and nail polish lingering for weeks after their departure. Every night, dinner was the same routine of Marlene having way to many glasses of Eggnog if you know what I mean. After that, drunk rambles and stories would be never ending, either about her damn dog or food. “Did I tell you my precious Gigi was almost cast in a Hollywood Movie?”. “Oh what can Gigi do besides eat and piss on carpet,” I whispered to my older brother. “Oh my turkey recipe was so delicious it was published in a cookbook.” “Ba ba bullshit!” I coughed to my brother. We always used Marlene’s visit as a perfect time to perfect our jokes and sarcasm. It gave some excitement to our otherwise bland holiday. She always was a very intriguing individual. I guess I could put up with the socks and lame novelty t-shirts for a few more years. “Happy holidays!”

Taylor Moncrief said...

“Shit”. “Uhh, Mr. V, there are kids in the room” my mom said to my grandpa who was in his own little world watching TV. Of course he didn’t hear her because he was too mesmerized watching the fishing channel. My grandpa had his routines he religiously followed, and when our family went to New Orleans to visit, it threw him out of wack. It seems like the man only knows how to continue his life in four different ways when we are around. If he wasn’t cooking a gumbo, watching the fishing channel, or showing us his “new” German Shepherd of 5 years now, he was telling us about his life in Iraq. If he even caught me looking his way for a second, I became a victim of listening to how he once took crystals from Saddam Hussain’s chandelier. Wishing he would just get back to his fishing show, I sat there and nodded every now and then, trying to get my sister’s attention to rescue me, through my peripheral vision. The family socialized without him, occasionally letting him know how amazing his gumbo was. Other than giving him our food critiques, we steered clear of him and his side of the couch. Oh, and I can’t forget to mention Mr. V’s habit, randomly saying “shit”.

Kortney Sorensen said...

"Whoah! Look at this one, it is huge!" my friend Katelynn said as she waved a gooey booger obnoxiously in my face. "Ew, get that out of my face," I replied with a disgusted look on my face. As she ignored me, she began to talk about her inability to shit. Just like always, she got bored of talking and finished her story with a nonsense expression," shmanny, shmanny,shmanny." No one ever knows exactly what that means, but I just blew it off and pretended to know what she was saying.
Right as I was about to tell Katelynn a story, she jumped up, ran over to me, lifted her leg, and let out a nasty smell. " I feel so much better," she exclaimed as she rubbed her belly. As I got up to walk into the kitchen, Katelynn yelled from the couch," You are so lucky to have a friend like me."

Kevin said...

"Holy shit guys, you will not believe what happened this time!" would come to be the usual saying that my friend Jimmy was to say. Every weekend my friends and I would have a get together to catch up with what's going on with what's happening around us, and all of us would look forward to what Jimmy had to say. He always seems to either exaggerate his story by a million times, or just completely bullshits thinking it'd make him look cooler. Either way, it's pretty annoying, but I never could seem to find a way to tell him off without sounding to mean, so i just let him talk. "Yesterday, when i was trying to sell this one druggie a bag of marijuana, the guy attacked me and tried to steal my stash. I sucker punched him in the face, and jacked him instead!" was his story for this week. "Well Jimmy, that seems like a very interesting story you had to share. So, how was the rest of you guys week?" was what i usually used to steer away the attention of his blabbering, and move on with actually hearing something legit.

Brittaney said...

Coming in from a gossip filled day with a following up of a treacherous cross-country work out, I was simply exhausted as I arrived home from a typical day at high school. I grabbed a snack and headed for the computer room for a usual evening catch up with my friends on IM. I approach the tall black leather computer chair only to find a 15 year old girl with apple red hello kitty clips in her gorgeous long brown hair quoting in unison with the speakers yet another memorized “Charlie the Unicorn” episode on youtube. I began to ask the usual, “How was your day?” but get abruptly cut off by this girl giving me the stop sign with her barely visible arms from all the multi-colored bracelets and bangles she has decided to collect on her body. Her very important interruption was to tell about how she knew Houdini’s real secret on how he escaped the chained up bag before being dropped in a pool of sharks. She’d been practicing a trick involving a disappearing quarter for days and seeing it repetitively had given the only trick in her magic show to become quite boring. Quite frankly, we still had to gather around after dinner to watch her young,flawless face become a glitter wreck of make-up performing the same show again in her cape improvised bath robe. She then proceeds to answer my question but adding in how a white pet mouse would be a perfect and ideal purse mate for school. Calling our caramel coated pet chihuahua named Kitty to the room in a high pitched opera voice, she hands over the computer. As I sit down she sits on the floor taking off her favorite pair of lime green converse. She pulls out an enormous tub of multi-colored nail polish and proceeds to paint her tiny toe nails. Painting each a different color, since she couldn’t decide on just one, she begins to tell me tips on how to rob a bank. Tired to an unimaginable extent, I stand up in the middle of her oh so useful tips, and begin to leave the room. “How rude!” she says, quoting Michelle Tanner off of Full House. “Don’t ever think I’m going to do the quarter trick again for you, you meanie!” Turning around and tilting my head slightly forward to give her the “whatever” eyes I tell her, “Of course you’ll do it again for me, I’m your sister silly.”

Brittany Haynes said...

It was a saturday night and the time was about 2:30 A.M when my drunk Grandad walked into my house.The first thing he said to me when he walked in was, "There were so many whores at the damn bar tonight! There just wasn't enough of me to go around if you know what I mean." Of course I didn't want to be rude so I kept my comments to myself. I just simply said okay and walked away thinking, "Your lucky a girl talked to you being that you are now 68."

The next morning he remembered nothing of this. I just could not believe he drove home and didn't get in a wreck. So I thought, it seems he hit a speed limit sign in my neighborhood and did not even remember. I will never forget his excuse after he realized that we weren't lying to him was, "That damn sign was in my god damn way. I never liked it anyhow. Once again I just ignored the ignorant words coming out of his mouth.

You see about 4 years before this time he was married to my Granny and since the divorce he has been partying as if he just turned 21. Though he just doesn't seem to realize he is not the stud that he used to be. I think we all have those family members that just don't seem to realize that they aren't 21 anymore.

Caroline14 said...

"WE ARE NOT FAMILY ANYMORE!!" Audrey exclaimed, "DON'T YOU EVER TALK TO ME OR MY BOYS EVER AGAIN!!"
Nana was not surprised. After all, this was Audrey for you.
Audrey is most unfortunately my aunt. Although i have never claimed her as my aunt, and indeed neither does the rest of my family. Since they used to live near us, my brother and i would to walk to aunt audrey's house to play with our cousins tommy and joseph. During the summer we would avoid going there as best as we could because Audrey is too cheap to turn on the air conditioner, even during the hot, alabama summers. Instead, she opened all the windows in the house, this was about the equivilant to her. There has never been a clothes dryer in audrey ryan's house either. Her two sons, tommy and joseph, have never gone a single 24 hours without speaking to their mom. Even though they are each men now and living on their own, Audrey makes sure to call them eveyr morning, once or twice during the day, and every night. She knows what they are doing at all times, and if she doesn't agree with what they are doing, then she tries her hardest to change their plans. As my high school's librarian, i had to see her every day during my years of elementary, middle, and high school. Everyone was terrified of her. She was SO mean to us when we would come in and sit and listen to her read. Instead of reading the books in a cute and fun way, she would spend most of her time yelling at one of us to "HUSH UP!" or "DID I SAY THAT YOU COULD TALK?!" It was horrible. It was always so embarrassing to hear all of my friends talking about how awful she was and then someone would look at me and say "Oh isn't she you aunt Caroline?" I hate to admit that she is my Aunt.
I guess i could go on and on about the different horrible things my aunt does, but i'll let your imagination take over from here.

Phillip Westbrook said...

We hadn't seen my Aunt Mary and Uncle David in almost a year. They live in Orlando and we were driving there to see them. I had plans to play golf with my Uncle David which I was looking foward to. We arrived in Orlando and so the day began.
I met my Uncle at the golf course later that day. It would be my first time playing with him and I was pumped cause I knew how good he was. We teed of and were going along smoothly. But then we ran into a group in front of us who happened to be going veryy sloww. We thought it would just be for a hole or two but it continued. I was relaxed but my Uncle was about to go off. He got out of the cart and threw a fit. "Comon what the hell are you doing, hurry up and play the damn hole," he said. I couldnt help but to laugh cause it really was funny. Then he started slamming his clubs on the ground. He was pissed and I thought it was funny as hell. Apparently he was a "premeir member" of the golf course and felt like he didnt have to put up with that shit.
The round ended and there he went up the stairs into the clubhouse to complain. I sat outside and waited for him. He came outside and I did not hear the end of it all the way back to his house. Hes a great guy but has the funniest temper ive ever seen.

Colin said...

"California, home of the fruits and the nuts!" my granny exclaimed to me when my sister was on her way to San Francisco. Thats my granny, Kate Wright Hotard. She was born into a rich family and lived and grew up in a victorian house in uptown New Orleans. Coming from very sucessful family being that her brother was a supreme court judge and two other brothers were lawyers. If there is three things my five-foot nothing, 80 year old, and white hair granny loves is her grandchildren, Bill Clinton, and to be controversial. Her Southern Democrat attitude comes out often as she takes shots at George W. calling him a "Dumb ass" or "A nut job". I just keep my mouth shot, not wanting to start an argument. My granny never mines crossing that line of things you should say or things you shouldn't say. I can recall a time when we were watching Jesse Jackson on TV. After he as done talking she very calmly told me "We should of picked our own cotton." Don't worry though my granny got up the next morning and went to 9 am sunday mass, which she never misses.

Her strong-willed , never give up attitude can be seen by anyone who meets her. I drove over one spring say to show my granny my new jeep I just bought. Although thinking it was too high off the ground she liked it. Making a smart comment, my grampy challenged her to climb into my light blue Jeep Wrangler with a 4 inch lift and 35" tires. 5 minutes later my granny was sitting high in the driver seat. O, and she let my grampy here about it. Although she might think that California is full of nutty people, I'm people California or all over the world for that matter might think my granny is a little nutty.

joel j said...

"Joel are you sure you dont want anymore to eat?". At my grandparents house that is one of the most frequently asked questions. I think my grandmas favorite thing to do is see people eat because anytime I go over there she is basically shoveling food down my throat. She has no job so she spends all day every day cooking food. With her three freezers stocked full of food she has cooked sometimes i wonder how many people she could feed off it, and i usually think thousands. Whenever i know we are going there i have to go into starvation mode and just not eat for at least a day because she wont let me leave her house without eating about a weeks worth of food. You would think that I would just turn it down but my she uses her sweet, innocent grandma characteristics to trick you into eating more than you can handle. Even though she makes you eat way too much I have to admit she does cook the best food i have ever eaten. Also it is never hard to get it. At least once a week my grandma brings over a few dishes that she has cooked for us to eat which is the reason i think my mom loves her so much because it saves her from cooking for at least two days because my grandma never brings only one meal worth of food.

jitchmohn said...

Mmmm… The smell of bottom of the barrel scotch, Winston cigarettes, and a light scent of Mississippi pine. Nothing jogs my memory better than a distinct smell. And this is the smell of Mimi. My family, once or twice a year, makes a trip to Diamondhead, Mississippi, where apparently one has to be over 55 to be a resident. Mimi is my little old Indian grandmother, lives a simple life. She drinks the cheap kind of scotch only a human with no remaining taste buds could drink. It seems to stain your cheek with every kiss. But this smell is not to be outdone by the smell of two to three packs of Winstons she and her husband smoke inside their house everyday. The constant flesh cooking temperature and constant cloud of smoke in the house is enough to create any world championship BBQ. But instead when we eat there it is always something covered in gravy; which I love, until you see the old fashioned tub of actual lard she produces her meals from. By lard, in case you don’t know, I mean pig fat in the solid form, in a bucket. And every meal is consumed with CNN news, which is the only channel allowed to watch, on a decibel level loud enough to challenge that of a small rocket ship. The only time the volume goes below Nascar level is after supper. After supper it is time for some gin rummie, a highly addictive long card game that goes perfect with scotch and Winstons. Mimi, her husband, and her Indian chief brother and sister, and my immediate family members over the age of twelve will play gin rummie all night long, or when old people go to sleep, at about 6:30 pm.

rebecca paz said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
rebecca paz said...

My dad's family left Ecuador to come to the United States when he was 15 years old. My grandma learned how to speak English as a young woman, but she likes to act like she has never heard the English language in her life. No, Leonor does not suffer with Alzheimers. She simply likes to play with your head. At grocery stores, she likes to take up the entire aisle so no one can get by. Whenever someone asks her to step aside, she stares at them blankly, and says "Que?" and continues to act desperately confused. The funny part is, she is fully capable of speaking English. She stands her ground until the person moves her cart for her,"ooohh haha" she'd reply. She thinks it's funny to mess with people, including her family.
She is well aware that NONE of my dad's children were taught to speak Spanish, but she likes to pretend like she forgot. Our visits to Leonor's house have become routine. We knock on her door and wait for an excruciatingly long time until we hear her fiddling with her 4 different door locks. Finally, our little, hunched back Leonor lets us in, ranting in Spanish about having to get out of bed.
We enter the house and kiss her cheek, while continues saying something to my dad. She then leads everyone to the table and offers us some random leftovers. Leonor knows that we always refuse to eat strange meals like tripe soup and flam, but she'll tell us "You must take it, It is good for zyou". We sit around her table and she asks each of us, "how are zyou doing en ah...school?". We tell her about our grades and she always has the same response, "that is Beeautiful to hear!". We see our grandma at least twice a month, but everytime we see her, she asks "Do you like my hair.. my hair cut?". We laugh as we watch her old hands pat her short white hair, calling herself "Beaautiful". When it is time to go, she speaks in Spanish for a little while, my dad corrects her, and she tells us "Be good for zyour daddy." She always calls me about a day after we visit, asking me to pick her up to run erronds with her. So, Leonor and I are off to the Save A Lot to piss off more random shoppers.

Perfect Paul said...

I never know what to expect from my grandmother when my family travels to Ecuador. My parents, brother and me always stay at Abuelita’s house because she has the most rooms to spare. The only problem is that we are under her roof and she expects us to follow her rules. Abuela, which is what I call, has a schedule that no one, not even superman, could stop her from fulfilling it. The way she does things can be explained in one day because her routine is always the same. One summer morning …
“WAKE UP!” yelled Abuela as she pulled on my covers trying to get me out of bed. My grandmother is not the strongest and of course not the youngest person in the world but when she needs to get something done she does it. I was thrown out of bed without even an apology. All I got was a look telling me to leave the room and go eat breakfast. There is an understood rule that one should not argue with Abuela if one knows wants best for them. That was basically how every morning went for Abuela and me which doesn’t make me a happy camper. I wouldn’t have a problem with it if I actually had something to do but she woke me up before the birds where even up. If someone wakes up extremely early it is only expected that they get to bed early as well. This is exactly what my grandmother does around six in the afternoon every day. Since my brother and I are in town she goes around looks for us to take us back to her house for the day. Enough was enough I thought as I saw my grandmother rounding the corner towards my cousins shop. I had made up my mind that I would stay no matter what she did or said. My brother was smart about the whole situation so he went on the first request. I stayed and watched my grandmother walk away while staring at me with eyes that said, “You will see”. I was left thinking really hard what would happen to me when I showed up at the house later that night. I couldn’t even enjoy the time I was spending with my cousin because of the seed that my grandmother had left in my head. I arrived at the house at around eight which wasn’t late but for my grandmother it was two hours past her bed time. I was buzzed in and I began walking up the stairs to the second floor where all the rooms are located. It was quiet, which made everything seem creepy and dark to the point I had to hold on to the railings to walk up the stairs. When I got to the top I heard a switch and the lights came on. I knew exactly who had turned them on, my grandmother. I was received by my grandmother and a slipper in her hand. She proceeded to slap me all over the place while yelling at me to never do that again. I was slapped all the way to my bed and got yelled at to never disobey her orders again. Every time I would think of disobeying my grandmother I would remember the pain I felt from my grandmother’s slippers and I never disobeyed my grandmother again for the rest of the summer.

zfickes said...

The man towers over me in stature, wearing his patented blue jump suit, reminiscent of his days as an oil engineer. My grandfather is very set in his ways and goes through the same exact routine everyday, cleaning his pool and taking care of a house which is much to big for him to keep up with. My family has tried to get him to move many times, but there's no telling him what to do.
There are two things he is known for above anything else, the tobacco pipe he constantly smokes and his stubbornness. At times the lasting effects of war and the depression can be detected on his face, but he is still a very caring individual and a hard worker. However, his unwillingness to listen to others has gotten him in trouble on more than one occasion. Such as last year when at the ripe old age of 82 he climbed a two story ladder in order to clean out his gutters. Needless to say he fell off the ladder and broke several bones. Never the less, about two months ago I caught him climbing the same ladder and when I asked him to get down he replied, "Zachary I have been doing things my self for Seventy years and a little fall won't stop me now."

Caroline14 said...

Caroline14 said...
"WE ARE NOT FAMILY ANYMORE!!" Audrey exclaimed, "DON'T YOU EVER TALK TO ME OR MY BOYS EVER AGAIN!!"
Nana was not surprised. After all, this was Audrey for you.
Audrey is most unfortunately my aunt. Although i have never claimed her as my aunt, and indeed neither does the rest of my family. Since they used to live near us, my brother and i would to walk to aunt audrey's house to play with our cousins tommy and joseph. Her two sons, tommy and joseph, have never gone a single 24 hours without speaking to their mom. Even though they are each men now and living on their own, Audrey makes sure to call them every morning, once or twice during the day, and every night. She knows what they are doing at all times, and if she doesn't agree with what they are doing, then she tries her hardest to change their plans. As my high school's librarian, i had to see her every day during my years of elementary, middle, and high school. Everyone was terrified of her. She was SO mean to us when we would come and sit and listen to her read. Instead of reading the books in a cute and fun way, she would spend most of her time yelling at one of us to "HUSH UP!" or "DID I SAY THAT YOU COULD TALK?!" It was horrible. It was always so embarrassing to hear all of my friends talking about how awful she was and then someone would look at me and say "Oh isn't she your aunt Caroline?"
I hate to admit that she is my Aunt.

kevin.tran said...

Whether it came to a family vacation, or just a simple car ride down the street, going places with my dad always seemed to be a problem amongst my brother and I. “So, did you hear about dad wanting for us to evacuate to Houston for hurricane Gustav?” were the words that came out of my brother Vu’s mouth as I woke up the morning before Gustav hit. “No, but I was planning on evacuating there anyways. Why, are you taking him? Cause I definitely don’t want to.” Turns out the odds were against me this time, and I ended up being stuck driving him while Vu leaves to Houston without notifying us. “Hurry up and pack your bags, we’re heading off to Texas tonight, and you’re going to drive. I’m taking all the frozen food from the freezer and packing it in the trunk as well. Go grab the milk while I do this” I immediately think to myself, “Why in the hell would he want to bring those things in the first place? “ Hours have passed, and we finally end up at the fifty mile marker before Houston. “Why are there so many cars, this is taking forever!” he yells. I look at him and calmly respond, without letting my temper take over, “Well, there are thousands of other people that are trying to evacuate to the same place we are too.” “If we would’ve left earlier then maybe this wouldn’t be a problem then now would it?” is what he responds with. He then takes off his socks, and lays his feet on the dashboard of the car, for everyone around us to see. The next four hours driving would just be hell from then on..

JM Robinson said...

It never ceases to amaze me that after all these years, my Uncle Matthew still has the temper of a terrible two year old. My avice to anyone I know, when they are around him is to not to do or say anything that would even remotely get his temper flaring. That is to say that many things that piss him off would be blown off by most. Uncle Matt is 35 and lives in Chicago. Whenever he comes in town, he has to get a taste of my grandmother's fried chicken. Last time he was in town, my grandmother did not have the time to cook his oh so loved fried chicken. Of course he threw a fit. Earlier that day Uncle Matt had given my grandfather 50 bucks for his birthday. While, Uncle Matt was in the shower he overheard my grandparents talking about his immature attitudeabout the chicken. He came out with nothing but a towel, looking for my grandfather's wallet. He found the money and yelled across the room, "well, if ya'll are gonna bitch so much, then i'll be taking back my damn money! Oh and im using it to buy me an early plane ticket home!" That is just one of the many examples why I would suggest to never piss off Matthew Robinson.

GeraldSoder said...

Another Christmas meant another fantastic season’s greeting from my crazy ass Aunt Marlene. Marlene was a chubby, oval shaped woman who wore cheap designer clothes and pungent perfume. She lugged her seven cases of fake Louis Vuitton luggage around accompanied by her pleasantly plump Shitzu. She was my Mom’s cousin from California, and it was a ritual that Marlene slept in my room when she came. “You’re so blessed,” my Mother said that I got to spend time with my lovely aunt, and oh what a joy it was. “Mom the dog pissed on my carpet again,” was my annual protest. “Gigi had a wittle accident? Oh momma’s poor bebe!” Marlene exclaimed many times over. Gigi was a little priss of a pooch, like she knew she had life easier than you, and indeed she did. Marlene had no children so Gigi gladly assumed the position. She wore ribbons in her groomed bangs and looked much like Marlene frankly. The dynamic duo stayed usually a week at my house which seemed like a year. My room transformed into a beauty salon so to speak; with clothes hanging, and the scent of burnt hair and nail polish lingering for weeks after their departure. Every night, dinner was the same routine of Marlene having way too many glasses of Eggnog, if you know what I mean. After that, drunken rambles and stories would be never ending, either about her damn dog or food. “Did I tell you my precious Gigi was almost cast in a Hollywood Movie?” “Oh what can Gigi do besides eat and piss on carpet,” I whispered to my older brother. “Oh my turkey recipe was so delicious it was published in a cookbook.” “Ba ba bullshit!” I coughed to my brother. We always used Marlene’s visit as a perfect time to prefect our jokes and sarcasm. It gave some excitement to our otherwise bland holiday. She never disappointed,every year she was the same intriguing individual. I guess I could put up with the socks and lame novelty t-shirts for a few more years. “Happy Fricken Holidays!”

jimmy egu said...

I guess age really is nothing but a number. My grandfather is living evidence of this. He is 87 years old, still works out, and wakes up early in the morning to run. Actually, when he is at my house, he wakes me up at 5 o'clock in the morning and says, "Get up so we can get a good workout in today." The kind of energy he has at his old age is ridiculous. I remember seeing him laying on the floor doing sit ups. He must have done about 200 hundred of them. Then he turned over and started doing push ups. Afterwards, the most surprising, fakest, weirdest thing happened. After he finished doing his push ups, he layed back on his back and flipped to his feet. I alomost jumped out of my drawers. That was something I never thought he would do.
A funny thing he would often do is look at himself in the mirror. I guess that's where I got that from. He would take off his shirt looking at his body to decide what body part he wanted to workout. Sometimes he would even flex in the mirror. I recall one time when I saw him doing that I said, "Be careful, I dont want you to blow a blood vessel and have to rush you to the hospital." He loves taking care of his body. He thinks has the best body in the family. However, we all know that i have the best body, but he is in excellent condition for his age. He's pretty buff with a six pack. My grand father is the workout addict of the family.

jitchmohn said...

Mmmm… The smell of bottom of the barrel scotch, Winston cigarettes, and a light scent of Mississippi pine. Nothing jogs my memory better than a distinct smell. And this is the smell of Mimi. My family, once or twice a year, makes a trip to Diamondhead, Mississippi, where apparently one has to be over the age of fifty-five to be a resident. Mimi is my little old Indian grandmother, lives a simple life. She drinks the cheap kind of scotch only a human with no remaining taste buds could drink. This unique smell seems to stain your cheek with every kiss. But this smell is not to be outdone by the smell of two to three packs of Winstons her and her husband smoke inside their house every day. The flesh cooking temperature and constant cloud of smoke in the house is enough to create any world championship BBQ. But instead when we eat there it is always something covered in gravy; which I love, until you see the old fashioned tub of actual lard she produces her meals from. By lard, in case you don’t know, I mean pig fat in the solid form, in a bucket. And every meal is consumed with Fox news, which is the only channel allowed to watch, on a decibel level loud enough to challenge that of a small rocket ship. The only time the volume goes below a Nascar race level is after supper. Then it is time for some gin rummie, a highly addictive long card game that goes perfect with scotch and Winstons. Mimi, her husband, and her Indian chief brother and sister, and my immediate family members over the age of twelve will play gin rummie all night long, or when old people go to sleep, at about 6:00 pm.

Kortney Sorensen said...

"Whoah! Look at this one, it is huge!" my friend Katelynn said as she shoved a gooey booger obnoxiously in my face.
"Ew, get that out of my face," I replied with a disgusted look on my face. As she ignored me, she began to talk about her inability to shit. Just like always, she got bored of talking and finished her story with a nonsense expression," shmanny, shmanny,shmanny." No one ever knows exactly what that means, but I just blew it off and pretended to know what she was saying.Right as I was about to tell Katelynn a story, she jumped up, ran over to me, lifted her leg, and let out a nasty smell.
“I feel so much better," she exclaimed as she rubbed her belly. I got up and walked into the kitchen, Katelynn followed me to get lunch. I immediately lost my appetite when she took out some noodles and sneezed all over them.
“Want some,” she said, as she shoveled in the mucus covered noodles in her mouth.
“No thanks, I’m okay,” I replied.
“Fine, more for me,” Katelynn responded “Whatever, I have to pee,” as she took her lunch to the bathroom. As I went back to the couch, all I could think is I‘ll never have another friend this “unique.”

Cassie said...

The ball whistled through the air as my grandmother pitched it to the first baseman. As she turned she saw a very handsome man riding up on a white horse. Yea a white horse. Inspiration struck her as she ran and jumped on the horse that the man had just gotten off of. She raced it down the field laughing as the man ran after her. She slowed down as she heard "Hey what are you doing? Get off my horse." As she slowed that beautiful horse down she got a good look at the handsome man. She was only fifteen and he was eighteen. They were married six years later, while she was training to become a nurse and he had just come back from fighting in World War II. They had to marry in secreat because she was still in school.
Maw maw was always pushing the envelope when it came to people, like the handsome man and his beautiful horse she did not stop to think what would happen; she just did. When I was little I was completely in awe of this amazing woman who stole my grandfather’s horse and his heart. “I used to play baseball with the girl who played Ellie May on the Beverly Hillbillies. I was at Hotel due in New Orleans, when I met Einstein. In my twenties I was a scuba diver. When I was in my thirties I met Elvis in a random city at a hotel. Cathy, your grandfather and I got to hear him sing. He was a nice guy, such a shame. I was fifty when I got my pilots license and fifty two when I went swimming with Flipper. Boy was your mother scared when we went flying and your grandfather took out a road map." She would tell me. I later found out that all of these stories were true. "Cassie" she would tell me "You are my namesake." I was one of twenty nine grandchildren and the only one named after her. In my mind that meant we had a special bond. She was crazy in so many ways. She traveled a thousand places and helped a thousand people. In my eyes she was the most incredible person in the world; a good mother, wife, and grandmother. I never understood who she really was until she wrapped her blue Pacifica around a tree when I was thirteen. So many people showed up to her wake that there was a line out the door. I did not understand until years later when I talked to my mother. "My mother was so scattered in so many ways that she never really was a mother to the seven of us. I had to demand she be one to me. She called us her “seven little mistakes”." It was only later that she found out her mother called her seven kids her “seven little treasures” to anyone who would listen. I never knew of that women who gave her youngest daughter a ring and took it back to give away as a gift in an auction. I never knew of that woman who gave money to strangers and not her family. This woman, who my mother knew, was different with her children than with her grandchildren. I understand now what my mother meant when she said that maw maw never really belonged to them but to the world. She was never really ours but everyone else’s. Yet I love her still.

joel j said...

"Joel are you sure you dont want anymore to eat?". At my grandparents house that is one of the most frequently asked question. I think my grandmas favorite thing to do is see people eat, because anytime I go over there she is basically shoveling food down my throat. She doesn't have a job so she spends all day every day cooking food. With her three freezers stocked full of food she has cooked, sometimes i wonder how many people could be fed for a week from that food, and I usually think thousands. Whenever I know we are going there, I have to go into starvation mode and not eat for at least a day because she wont let me leave her house without eating about a weeks worth of food. You would think that I would just turn it down but she uses her sweet, innocent grandma characteristics to trick you into eating more than you can handle. Even though she makes you eat way too much, I have to admit she does cook the best food I have ever eaten! Also it is never hard to get some of the leftovers. At least once a week my grandma brings over a few dishes that she has cooked for us to eat. This is the reason I think my mom loves her so much. My grandma saves her from cooking for at least two days. My grandma never brings only one meal worth of food.

Corday Barnes said...

Oh My God! My Aunt Ingrid is acting an ass again. While everyone is in the church clapping and shouting a little loudly, my Aunt Ingrid pulls out a whistle from her purse and started blowing it loud and excessively. Who at the age of 43 carries a whistle in their purse? That’s my Aunt Ingrid though. Aunt Ingrid, 5’6, 160, brown skin tone, is known by the whole town of Edgard. She’s known by the whole town for a reason. She has a personality like no one else. It can be described as loud, over dramatic, drama queen, but also loving and caring. Sometimes her over exaggerating personality can be useful. When we need someone to fuss someone down to lower a bill or something, we hand the phone to Aunt Ingrid. One instance, she was fussing at a bill collector. This time we didn’t know anything about it because my mother was out at her friend’s house and I was at school. My mother came to pick me up and three minutes later we received a phone call that a lot of police were searching around our house looking for someone. We found out information from my uncle’s wife who works in the courthouse about why they were there. What? They received a report that someone in the house was about to commit suicide! When we got home, the police had stop searching our house and I guess went back to doing their regular duties. We couldn’t find her anywhere and tried calling her cell phone but no answer. We were not panicking too much because we know how Aunt Ingrid is but in the back of our minds, we were worried crazy. Finally, we received a phone call from her. She had told the company’s operator that she was about to commit suicide just to not pay a bill and the company’s operator had to report it to the police because it’s apart of their job. Now that’s taking it to far Ingrid. My Aunt Ingrid can be such a drama queen but I love her with all my heart.

Brittaney said...

Arriving home from a typical high school day filled with gossip, I was simply exhausted. I grabbed a snack and headed for the computer room for a usual evening catch up with my friends on IM. I approach the tall black leather computer chair only to find a 15 year old girl with apple red hello kitty clips in her gorgeous long brown hair quoting in unison with the speakers yet another memorized “Charlie the Unicorn” episode on youtube. I began to ask the usual, “How was your day?” but got abruptly cut off by this girl giving me the stop sign with her barely visible arms from all the multi-colored bracelets and bangles she had decided to collect on her body. Her very important interruption was to tell about how she knew Houdini’s real secret on how he escaped the chained up bag before being dropped in a pool of sharks. She’d been practicing a trick involving a disappearing quarter for days and seeing it repetitively had given the only trick in her magic show to become quite boring. Quite frankly, we still had to gather around after dinner to watch her young,flawless face become a glitter wreck of make-up performing the same show again in her cape improvised bath robe. She then proceeded to answer my question but adding in how a white pet mouse would be a perfect and ideal purse mate for school. Calling our caramel coated pet chihuahua named Kitty to the room in a high pitched opera voice, she handed over the computer. As I sat down, she sat on the floor taking off her favorite pair of lime green converse. She pulled out an enormous tub of multi-colored nail polish and proceeded to paint her tiny toe nails. Painting each a different color, since she couldn’t decide on just one, she began to tell me tips on how to rob a bank. Tired to an unimaginable extent, I stood up in the middle of her oh so useful tips, and began to leave the room. “How rude!” she said, quoting Michelle Tanner off of Full House. “Don’t ever think I’m going to do the quarter trick again for you, you meanie!” Turning around and tilting my head slightly forward to give her the “whatever” eyes I told her, “Of course you’ll do it again for me, I’m your sister silly.”

Taylor Moncrief said...

“Shit”, my grandpa belched out. “Uhh, Mr. V, there are kids in the room” my mom said rolling her eyes. Of course he didn’t hear her because he was too mesmerized by the fishing channel. My grandpa had his routines he religiously followed, and whenever our family went to New Orleans to visit, it threw him out of wack. It seems like the man only knows how to continue with his life in four different ways when we are around. If he wasn’t cooking a gumbo, watching the fishing channel, or showing us his new German Shepherd, he was telling us about his life in Iraq. If he even caught me looking his way for a second, I became a victim of listening to how he once took crystals from Saddam Hussain’s chandelier. Being in Iraq for the war was and still is an amazing part of his life, but when you’ve heard the heroic stories over fifteen times each, you literally start twitching. Wishing he would just get back to his fishing show, I sat there and nodded every now and then trying to get my sister’s attention through my peripheral vision. I needed to be saved. The family went on socializing without him until we were all done eating. We loved his cooking! After dinner, once his shows were all over, we would go sit in the living room with him. He would ask how we’ve been doing because he really does care about us. Although he talks about being tough in the war and brags about his huge watchdog, the man doesn’t have a mean bone in his body. So besides his stories we’d all like to be spared by, we all love and appreciate my grandpa. Oh, and I can’t forget to mention Mr. V’s habit, saying “shit”.

Phillip Westbrook said...

We hadn't seen my Aunt Mary and Uncle David in almost a year. They live in Orlando and we were driving there to see them. I had plans to play golf with my Uncle David which I was looking foward to. The day began as soon as we arrived in Orlando.
I met my Uncle at the golf course later that day. It would be my first time playing with him and I was pumped cause I knew how good he was. We teed of and were moving along smoothly. But then we ran into a group in front of us who happened to be going veryy slow. Instead of playing a hole in a normal ten minutes it took them more like twenty. We thought it would just be for a hole or two but it continued. I didn't bother me but my Uncle was about to go off. He got out of the cart and threw a fit. "Comon what the hell are you doing, hurry up and play the damn hole," he said. I couldnt help but to laugh cause it really was funny. Then he started slamming his clubs on the ground. He was pissed and I thought it was funny as hell. Apparently he was a "premier member" of the golf course and felt like he didnt have to put up with that shit.
The round ended and there he went up the stairs into the clubhouse to complain as I sat outside and waited for him. He came outside and I didn't hear the end of it all the way back to his house. He's a great guy but has the funniest temper i've ever seen.

zach rhodes said...

Going from growing up dirt poor to being financially sound was a big transition for my grandparents to make, nevertheless they were still able to bring much of their past to the present. Being raised on the wrong side of the tracks and only knowing how to speak Cajun French created many obstacles for my grandparents to over come. Yet they persevered and became stronger from their experiences. They always told me stories of times when the only thing they had to eat was sugar covered banana peels. My grandfather in particular went from living on the streets at a young age to being a prominent figure in the Louisiana Legislature. Even though my grandparents have achieved a great deal of success in their lives they still live as if they were dirt poor. Growing up with little or no food left my grandparents with what you could call an indifferent pallet. I’ve witnessed my grandmother cook everything from muskrats to raccoons, and not to mention eating every last bit. My grandfather to this day still demands that he bring his sardines and peanut butter with him everyday for lunch at our majestic capitol building. The one time I was able to talk my grandfather into going out to eat with me, he revealed his inner coonass by ordering a lobster, removing the tail, putting the tail aside, and proceeding to eat the fat out of the head of the lobster with one of those tiny seafood forks as if it was a crawfish. After trying to stop this embarrassing table manor violation, my grandfather mutters to me in broken French and English, “pe kay twa its good.” Which roughly translates to “fuck you its good.” Although my grandparents may not be the most proper couple, they are the kindest and most loving people I ever had the honor of knowing. My grandmother always tells me what ever is in the past only makes you stronger for the future, and by knowing my grandparents past obstacles and present success, I can testify to that statement.

rebecca paz said...
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rebecca paz said...

My dad's family left Ecuador to come to the United States when he was 15 years old. My grandma learned how to speak English as a young woman, but she likes to act like she has never heard the English language in her life. No, Leonor does not suffer with Alzheimers. She just 'forgets'.

She is well aware that NONE of my dad's children were taught to speak Spanish. She complains to my dad everytime we see her, "It is a shame that MY grandchildren cannot speak spanish!"

Our visits to Leonor's house have become routine. We knock on her door and wait for an excruciatingly long time until we hear her fiddling with her 4 different door locks. Finally, our little, hunched back Leonor lets us in, ranting in Spanish about having to get out of bed.
We enter the house and kiss her cheek, while she continues saying something to my dad. She then leads everyone to the table and offers us some random leftovers. Leonor knows that we always refuse to eat strange meals like tripe soup and flen, but she'll tell us "You must take it, it is good for zyou". We sit around her table and she asks each of us, "How are zyou doing en ah...school?". We tell her about our grades and she always has the same response, "that is beautiful!". We see our grandma at least twice a month, but everytime we see her, she asks "Do you like my hair.. my hair cut?". We laugh as we watch her old hands pat her short white hair, calling herself "beautiful".

When it is time to go, she speaks in Spanish for a little while, my dad corrects her, and she tells us "Be good for zyour daddy." We kiss her cheek, aware that in three weeks we'll be back to do it all over again.

Tiffany said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Tiffany said...

"Every bird must one day spread its wings and fly" My uncle must have never heard this phrase. He believes his nest is and will always be my granny's house.
My grandfather passed away when my mom was a baby. Mame raised five children as a single mother in a four bedroom house with a well manicured lawn. Mame was a teacher and tried her hardest to raise confident, independent children. Well, I can not say she missed her mark, but if you saw my Uncle Skipper you would believe she was shooting blindfolded.
"Hey Miss Magna Doodle!" I knew my uncle had spotted me. He was drunkenly swaggering his way over with his crazy curly salt and pepper hair and frizzled beard and mustache to match. He called me Magna Doodle because when I was about five I accused him of breaking my sketching toy that I loved so dearly.
He used to work everyday and act like a normal human being. Since I've been alive I've only witnessed my uncle go out and provide for his self one time. He quit his job about a day or two later. Maybe you could say he is going through a mid life crisis. He bathes whenever he sees fit, every two or three days. The man is fifty years old and parades around in this hip hop gear, that's stained and dirty from wearing over and over.
Every holiday, when he manages to get a few drinks we hear about his ultimate fight with the ghost that haunts Mame's house. His eyes would get a strange glassy deranged look and you knew he was out of it. "I couldn't see it but I could feel it, stalking me, teasing me! It called my name and just as I turned around it swung me a good one, right in the back of the head! Motherfu%^$# I'm not scared! I threw as many punches as I could!" He went on throwing expletives in while entertaining the kids.
My uncle had so much potential, he was smart and artistic. He was once married and lived a productive life. Maybe my uncle is the little bird that was supposed to get pushed out of the nest.

Brittany Haynes said...

It was a Saturday night and the time was about 2:30 A.M when my drunk Grandad walked into my house. He was wearing a black shirt that said “I ain’t as good as I once was, but I’m as good once as I ever was.” He had on his cowboy boots with his boot cut wrangler jeans. His hair hung down to his shoulders and to finish off the outfit he had on his favorite cowboy hat. The first thing he said to me when he walked in was, "There were so many whores at the damn bar tonight! There just wasn't enough of me to go around if you know what I mean." Of course, I didn't want to be rude so I kept my comments to myself. I just simply said okay and walked away thinking, You’re lucky a girl even talked to you.


The next morning he remembered nothing of this. I just could not believe he drove home and didn't get in a wreck. So I thought, it seems he hit a speed limit sign in my neighborhood and did not even remember. After he realized that we weren't lying to him he then tried to make it funny by saying, "That damn sign was in my god damn way. I never liked it anyhow.” Once again I just ignored the ignorant words coming out of his mouth.


You see about 4 years before this time he was married to my Granny and since the divorce he has been partying as if he just turned 21. Though he just doesn't seem to realize he is not the stud that he used to be. I think we all have those family members that just don't seem to realize that they aren't 21 anymore.

Perfect Paul said...

Whenever my family visits my grandmother in Ecuador we always know what to expect. My parents, brother and I always stay at Abuelita’s house because she has the most rooms to spare. The only problem is that we are under her roof and she expects us to follow her rules. Abuela, which is what I call my grandmother, has a schedule that no one can stop her from fulfilling. The way she does things can be explained in one day because her routine is always the same. One summer morning …
“WAKE UP!” yelled Abuela as she pulled on my covers trying to get me out of bed. My grandmother is not the strongest and of course not the youngest person in the world but when she needs to get something done she does it. My sheets were taken from me, I was grabbed by the back of my shirt, and thrown out of bed without an apology. All I got was a look telling me to leave the room and go eat breakfast. There is an understood rule that one should not argue with Abuela if one knows what’s best for them. That was basically how every morning went for Abuela and I which doesn’t make me a happy camper. I wouldn’t have a problem with it if I actually had something to do, but she woke me up before the birds were even up. If someone wakes up extremely early it is only expected that they get to bed early as well. This is exactly what my grandmother does around six in the afternoon every day. Since my brother and I are in town she goes around and looks for us to take us back to her house for the day. Enough was enough, I thought, as I saw my grandmother rounding the corner towards my cousins shop. I had made up my mind that I would stay no matter what she did or said. My brother was smart about the whole situation, so he went on the first request. I stayed and watched my grandmother walk away while staring at me with eyes that said, “You will see”. I was left thinking really hard about what would happen to me when I showed up at the house later that night. I couldn’t even enjoy the time I was spending with my cousin because of the seed that my grandmother had left in my head. I arrived at the house around eight which wasn’t late but for my grandmother it was two hours past her bed time. I was buzzed in and I began walking up the stairs to the second floor where all the rooms are located. It was quiet, which made everything seem creepy and dark to the point I had to hold on to the railings to walk up the stairs. When I got to the top I heard a switch and the lights came on. I knew exactly who had turned them on, my grandmother. I was greeted by my grandmother and a slipper in her hand. She proceeded to slap me all over the place while yelling at me to never do that again. I was slapped all the way to my bed and got yelled at to never disobey her orders again. Every time I would think of disobeying my grandmother I would remember the pain I felt from my grandmother’s slippers and I never disobeyed my grandmother again for the rest of the summer.

zfickes said...

Granddad
The man towers over me in stature, wearing his patented blue jump suit, reminiscent of his days as an oil engineer. He has a weathered face, rugged hair and a raspy voice. At times the lasting effects of war and the depression can be detected on his face, but he is still a very caring individual and a hard worker. My grandfather is very set in his ways and goes through the same exact routine every day. Cleaning his pool and taking care of His 1950’s, rustic house which is much too big for him to keep up with have become his life’s missions. My family has tried to get him to move many times, but there's no reasoning with my grandfather once his mind is made up. He is a man of his word, which ironically gets him into trouble at times.

There are two things he is known for above anything else, the tobacco pipe he constantly smokes and his stubbornness. Two things, which seem to plague many of America’s older men. My grandfather has always had a do-it-yourself attitude which is not necessarily a good thing. I sympathize with him at times, because I understand that it is hard for a man who has fought in the army to be “taken care of.” However, time after time his unwillingness to listen to others has gotten him into trouble yet he still doesn’t learn.
My mother has pleaded with him on many occasions to ask for help when a task is too much for him to handle. However, her pleas have continued to fall on deaf ears. On a frigid, windy day last December we received a call from the hospital around two o’clock in the afternoon. It seemed that at the ripe old age of 82 he decided to climb a two-story ladder in order to clean out his gutters. Needless to say, he fell off the ladder and broke several bones. Never the less, about two months ago I caught him climbing the same ladder and when I asked him to get down he replied, "Zachary I’ve been doing things myself for Seventy years and a little fall won't stop me now." I’m still not sure what possessed him to do such a thing. Perhaps it is an unwillingness to let his youth slip away or a need to feel useful. I guess he will always be that do-it-yourself man, which I have learned not only to live with, but admire.

Evan Riley said...

Whether we are at the store, eating at a fancy restaurant, or having a seafood boil at someone’s house, my grandpa either does not know when the line is crossed or does not care what comes out of his mouth. Po, as we all call him, is 82 with the same humorous temper as the 20 year old sailor he used to be. My grandma died during Hurricane Katrina, but 60 years of a faithful marriage still couldn’t hold the natural born MAC he is back. Now, with his 62 year old girlfriend of about a year, he is still full of energy: going to the gym 5 days a week, and out to eat, and dance at night.
The scary thing is you never know when the good-hearted 82 year old man will go into a rant about the "god damn good for nothing workers" at home depot messing up his "god damn wall paper order" right in front of them. Now the "god damn waiters and waitresses" better watch out because if they overcook his "god damn steak one more god damn time, this will be the last time his ass will ever set foot here." And fishing, let’s not even get started on fishing. All I'm going to say is that if you meet a well dressed old man with a fishing pole and tackle box out on the lakes and the "god damn wind feels like there’s a god damn tornado blowing around", my advice is to stay away.

Colin said...

"California, home of the fruits and the nuts!" my granny exclaimed to me when my sister was on her way to San Francisco. Thats my granny, Kate Wright Hotard. She was born into a rich family and lived and grew up in a victorian house in uptown New Orleans. She came from very sucessful family being that her brother was a Supreme Court judge and two other brothers were lawyers. Her brother Skelly was the judge who intergrated the schools of New Orleans. If there is three things my five-foot nothing, 80 year old, white hair granny loves is her grandchildren, Bill Clinton, and to be controversial. Her Southern Democrat attitude comes out often as she takes shots at George W. calling him a "Dumb ass" or "A nut job". I just keep my mouth shut, not wanting to start an argument. My granny never minds crossing the line of things you should or shouldn't say. I can recall a time when we were watching Jesse Jackson on TV. After he was done talking she very calmly told me "We shoulda’ picked our own cotton." Don't worry though my granny got up the next morning and went to 9 am Sunday mass, which she never misses.
Although she might think that California is full of nutty people, I'm sure people in California or all over the world for that matter might think my granny is a little nutty.

Nick Kreger said...

Every day is the same thing when it comes to my great grandfather. Every morning he wakes up, puts on his finest suit or tux, and eats a big breakfast prepared for him by his wife. Of course if you ask him about the woman he is always with (my great grandmother) he will tell you, "This is my lovely maid..she is a pretty little thing though." After he gets done eating, he gets his broom and sweeps the front porch even though it had been swept yesterday. After the porch is as clean as a whistle my grandfather will send my mom to go get "your crazy grandfather." She would walk to his house and he would say "Look Margie, it's the little boy from across the street." There were a few thing wrong with this sentence first my mother is a girl and second they lived in my grandparents backyard, not across the street. My mom would tell them to come over and as soon as he got there he would say "Mmmhhmm, I'm starving!" even though an hour ago he had a huge meal. I had just started speaking sentences at this time and i remember calling him poppop. He would look at my grandfather and say, "Who's baby is that, and why does he have white hair?" Although all of this is very funny he unfortunately passed away before i could remember what he looked like. But, I have heard stories and I'm glad to know that he was very happy during his last months of life.