"Grandma, you said we'd make cookies."
"I told you, 'no cookies until you eat lunch.' Now go make a sandwich."
"I already ate my lunch," I said mischievously.
“I know what you ate, and that’s not a proper lunch.”
Now, there’s no way she saw me eat those cold cuts. Sometimes bread was an inconvenient nuisance, I just ate the cold cuts. My grandparents had the good ham - with the fresh nitrates and extra sodium. I ate the three slices straight from the bag, with the fridge door open and my fingerprints all over the place. My health conscious parents never allowed this ham in the house, but my Grandma bought it especially for my visits.
“What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?” She stared at me, waiting to see if I’d confess.
“Ok, ok, ok. You told me to make a sandwich, and I didn’t. I was hoping you'd make it for me.”
“Oh, so I’m just here to serve you? Joseph, you’re 13 years old, you can do things for yourself. Meanwhile I’m running around so this house is ready for Christmas Eve. Why don’t you stick a broom up my ass, and I’ll sweep the floor.”
That was one of my grandma's favorite sayings, along with "tables are for glasses, and not asses." She loved to repeat these sayings, and always prefaced them with, “As my mother would say…” But to me, these were her sayings, they made her special.
“I’m sorry Grandma, I’m just a dumb Irish mick, I can’t help it.”
Truthfully, I knew nothing of being called a mick. I heard the line from the movie Biloxi Blues and couldn't wait to repeat it to my grandparents.
“Dumb Irish mick? What do you know about that? My father must be rolling in his grave to hear you say such a thing.”
“Did he get called that name a lot?”
“That’s not the issue. My father was a mick, but I was a yank. He would tell me, ‘I’m Irish, but you’re American!’ He told me, ‘I left Ireland, and I’m never going back.’ So believe me, you are not a mick.”
“Have you ever thought about going back to Ireland?”
“Back to Ireland? There’s no back. The only back to is Trenton, New Jersey, and that’s not a good place to visit any more. The whole neighborhood,” she paused to close her eyes as she shook it back and forth. “Lord knows we are all God’s creatures, but…well, let’s just say everyone I knew left that neighborhood years ago.”
“Aren’t you curious? I mean you married Grandpa because you ‘only dated Irish boys.’ Don’t you want to see Ireland for yourself, Uncle Mark and Uncle Matt went. They met your father’s cousins.”
“Tell ya what, if you go to Ireland, and I’m still living and healthy…maybe, maybe I will go with you.”
“OK Grandma, I will hold you to that, in the meantime can we please make those cookies? I’ve been waiting all year to eat those snickerdoodles.”
“Ah boy, you don’t give up. Alright, grab the oleo from the fridge.”
“Oleo? What’s that?” and I giggled with arrogant snobbery.
“You watch your tone there Joe-man,” and she moved me aside to grab a tub of margarine from the fridge. “You know you’re named after Joe, my favorite brother.”
“Wait a minute, that’s margarine! You call it oleo?” and I giggled some more.
“One day, you’ll be an old man, and your kids will laugh at you for the old fashioned way you say things.”
“You mean like when you say tomato pie? Instead of pizza?” I looked down because I was laughing and making fun of my grandmother, but didn’t want her to catch me.
“You know you’re just like him?”
“Him? Who’s him?”
“My brother Joe, that’s who. He was always being a smart ass too. You think I don’t know what you’re doing? Now go get my mixing bowl.”
Truthfully, I liked my grandmother’s cookies, but I sought her company most of all. She took an interest in me and asked me about my life. She found a way to sneak life lessons and morals into her conversations. She was rough around the edges and spoke bluntly, but was always kind and loving to me.
Years later I attended Trinity College Dublin, in the summer of 1994. I got word during my second week in Dublin, "your grandparents will be there the week after your semester ends." She kept her word!
We spent two incredible days sightseeing Ireland. After being there 8 weeks I knew how to take the bus, how to order at a cafe and a pub. It was a life changing experience I will treasure forever.
Thank you Grandma for everything. Thanks for buying me cold cuts when I visited, thanks for making me cookies, thanks for calling me out and thanks for loving me. By the way, my kids laugh at me all the time - I'm quite the relic to them.
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