It’s for their own good; they are way too serious sometimes.
As we age, we no longer take ourselves serious. We’ve been through it, and not much of anything is a shock anymore. A grandmother just can’t be placed in a mold; we didn’t come out identical from a factory or a tree ran by elves.
We are, however, like a box of cookies. Some of them look just alike, but there’s always one with a piece broken off. Or perhaps we’re the one Oreo that has no filling.
Grandmothers go by any manner of names — Nana, Mim, Gran, Una, Mamaw, just to name a few. Whatever the name, we all have one thing in common. Grandmothers have a tremendous capacity for love and tolerance.
We can overlook little things that the parent would have been taken to task for 30 years ago. It may be a little pay back on our part; we can spoil and then give them back to the parent.
I have been accused many times with, “If I had done that when I was her age you would have beaten me!”
Grandmas are much more savvy today, and many times very young themselves when they are bestowed with the title. Why, I knew a grandma that climbed on the back of a Harley and rode all the way from California to Ringgold. Another donned water skis at age 65 and showed up her entire family. The grandchildren are still in therapy for reasons that can’t be told here, at least not without representation.
Now, concerning energy drinks, when my grandson and his girlfriend found out that I had drunk a Red Bull, they both had a fit. Immediately they began admonishing me with, “Oh, those are SO bad for you.”
Of course, I only heard a portion of what they said because grandmas have selective hearing. We only hear in special situations. Also, I have learned to never take advice from anyone who has had their driver’s license less than two years. You see, this whole thing started when my computer began telling me that my battery was nearing the end of its usable life, but could still be recharged.
I’m sorry, but I took that personally. My computer has hurt my feelings before, but now it was messing with my self-esteem. I had to pick up groceries, and knowing my battery could go down any time, I was faced with a decision. As I stood in line, I began to feel weaker by the minute. There were two choices that I could see. I could fall onto the conveyer belt and be scanned along with my merchandise. Only I wouldn’t have a bar code, and the girl would have to call, “Price check on aisle three!” Then it would come down to weight or volume. I would be dumped into the largest doubled bag they had and hung on the side of my buggy.
I made my choice right then and there; so reaching into the cooler, I grabbed a Red Bull, had it scanned and drank it before leaving the store. It won’t be my last time; if one store doesn’t want to serve, I can find one that will. I have now acquired a craving for the unsweetened, grape Kool-Aid after taste.
Yes, among other oddities, grandmas drink Red Bull.
Kaye Ella Steadman lives in Chickamauga. She is a storyteller, published writer and author of the book “The Girl in the Mirror.” She can be reached at kayesteadman@aol.com or follow her on Facebook.
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