kybearfuzz (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
kybearfuzz) wrote2009-01-07 08:38 am
kybearfuzz) wrote2009-01-07 08:38 am
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Mark, Joe & the Flatulent Granny
Normally for our birthday, I would recount something the twin and I did together. This past birthday I came up empty so I left it alone, but was reminded by something in the car on the way to work this morning, something I was afraid I'd forget by next year. So here it is...
The summer we were eleven our paternal grandfather passed away. He was a sweet man, short and lean, who always wore suspenders. He spent a great deal of his time doing things like whitling or weaving things -- purses, plant hangers, those woven seats in tall back country chairs, etc. I remember him having great skill at this and would marvel at the amount of patience he had doing it. Joe was especially attached to him I think and it hurt a great deal to all of us to see him go.
His passing left our grandmother in her little house all alone. She lived about a 1/2 mile walk from our house and we saw her often. My parents decided that since they had three young kids living at home that it would be a great idea if one of us spent the night at her house every night so she wouldn't be alone. While in theory this might not have sounded like a bad idea, in practice they would find it more difficult.
As a child, I was very attached to my room and my house and before Papaw passed away I would try to stay over there and would often have to have Mom or Dad come get me as I couldn't sleep. This didn't set well with me as it disrupted my usual routine. My sister and Joe didn't always enjoy it either, as often we would have to decide who was going amongst ourselves versus Mom or Dad telling us. We did this literally for the next few years and Mom admits now that it wasn't a great idea in retrospect.
The strain of going over there eased as we grew older. My sister and the twin eventually realized that sneaking out of Granny's house was much easier than sneaking out of home. This being because Granny, like most elderly ladies, would got to bed at 9 or 9:30 PM, where our mother would stay up well past midnight. While I admit that I only snuck out once to go swimming in the buff alone at the city pool, the twin and my sister did it regularly and what they did on those outtings usually only come to light during Thanksgiving and Christmas when we feel the need to confess and laugh about it in front of Mom.
There were some weekend nights that Joe and I would both stay over. Granny would go to bed at her usual time and we would stay up watching TV. Her living room was just down a very short hallway from her bedroom and the doors usually stayed open. Often, we would turn down the TV and listen to Granny snore, which was considerably loud for a woman we thought. This paled in comparison to other noises that she made.
Granny's diet, I recall, was typical country fare. Most things were fried and/or baked, but in her later years she took to eating lots of vegetables. She often cooked beans, made cole slaw, fried cabbage, etc. She usually ate very little, but what she ate was pure fiber and ruffage for the most part.
This diet of course was the fuel for what the twin and I laugh about to this very day. We would be sitting in the living room, often with the lights out watching television. Joe would be in one recliner on one side of the hallway entrance, I would be in the other, and suddenly we would hear a noise that sounded like someone trying to start a flooded chainsaw. We would look at each other with wide-eyed amazement, not laughing yet but the realization of what was happening would soon hit us. Soon, another booming rip would echo from her bedroom between snores and Joe and I would laugh the silent, breathy giggle of people who were trying to be quiet in church when things you were not supposed to laugh at became unbearably funny.
The twin and I listed with the intensity that is likened to the anticipation for watching fireworks. Two evil little boys giggling and laughing with each gaseous explosion. We wondered how in the world Papaw slept next to her for all those years without being literally blown out of bed. How such noises came out of such a little woman floored us.
The next morning we would wander into Granny's kitchen to the smell of eggs, toast and coffee. There she would be at the stove, this short 5'5", pear-shaped woman with gray hair and big glasses whom we loved so much. She would ask what time we went to bed and we would ask her how she slept.
"Oh, I barely slept at all last night," she would always respond.
Grinning, I would look at Joe and he at me knowing that we were thinking the same thing. It must be hard to sleep in the middle of all that noise.
The summer we were eleven our paternal grandfather passed away. He was a sweet man, short and lean, who always wore suspenders. He spent a great deal of his time doing things like whitling or weaving things -- purses, plant hangers, those woven seats in tall back country chairs, etc. I remember him having great skill at this and would marvel at the amount of patience he had doing it. Joe was especially attached to him I think and it hurt a great deal to all of us to see him go.
His passing left our grandmother in her little house all alone. She lived about a 1/2 mile walk from our house and we saw her often. My parents decided that since they had three young kids living at home that it would be a great idea if one of us spent the night at her house every night so she wouldn't be alone. While in theory this might not have sounded like a bad idea, in practice they would find it more difficult.
As a child, I was very attached to my room and my house and before Papaw passed away I would try to stay over there and would often have to have Mom or Dad come get me as I couldn't sleep. This didn't set well with me as it disrupted my usual routine. My sister and Joe didn't always enjoy it either, as often we would have to decide who was going amongst ourselves versus Mom or Dad telling us. We did this literally for the next few years and Mom admits now that it wasn't a great idea in retrospect.
The strain of going over there eased as we grew older. My sister and the twin eventually realized that sneaking out of Granny's house was much easier than sneaking out of home. This being because Granny, like most elderly ladies, would got to bed at 9 or 9:30 PM, where our mother would stay up well past midnight. While I admit that I only snuck out once to go swimming in the buff alone at the city pool, the twin and my sister did it regularly and what they did on those outtings usually only come to light during Thanksgiving and Christmas when we feel the need to confess and laugh about it in front of Mom.
There were some weekend nights that Joe and I would both stay over. Granny would go to bed at her usual time and we would stay up watching TV. Her living room was just down a very short hallway from her bedroom and the doors usually stayed open. Often, we would turn down the TV and listen to Granny snore, which was considerably loud for a woman we thought. This paled in comparison to other noises that she made.
Granny's diet, I recall, was typical country fare. Most things were fried and/or baked, but in her later years she took to eating lots of vegetables. She often cooked beans, made cole slaw, fried cabbage, etc. She usually ate very little, but what she ate was pure fiber and ruffage for the most part.
This diet of course was the fuel for what the twin and I laugh about to this very day. We would be sitting in the living room, often with the lights out watching television. Joe would be in one recliner on one side of the hallway entrance, I would be in the other, and suddenly we would hear a noise that sounded like someone trying to start a flooded chainsaw. We would look at each other with wide-eyed amazement, not laughing yet but the realization of what was happening would soon hit us. Soon, another booming rip would echo from her bedroom between snores and Joe and I would laugh the silent, breathy giggle of people who were trying to be quiet in church when things you were not supposed to laugh at became unbearably funny.
The twin and I listed with the intensity that is likened to the anticipation for watching fireworks. Two evil little boys giggling and laughing with each gaseous explosion. We wondered how in the world Papaw slept next to her for all those years without being literally blown out of bed. How such noises came out of such a little woman floored us.
The next morning we would wander into Granny's kitchen to the smell of eggs, toast and coffee. There she would be at the stove, this short 5'5", pear-shaped woman with gray hair and big glasses whom we loved so much. She would ask what time we went to bed and we would ask her how she slept.
"Oh, I barely slept at all last night," she would always respond.
Grinning, I would look at Joe and he at me knowing that we were thinking the same thing. It must be hard to sleep in the middle of all that noise.
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Oh, breakfast. What a disappointment. LOL.
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