Kayte went to Grandma's house.
OK, long overdue. What can I say, I needed to decompress, and attempt to forget the parts of this trip that made me shutter, and vomit a little in my mouth. But now sufficient time has passed, and I'm procrastinating doing other homework, so it seemed like a good time to update things.
First I'll tell you a little about my Grandma Julia. She's 95 years old, so she's lived through a hell of a lot. That means that she actually has really cool stories about working in an airplane factory and being a 'Rosie the Riveter' type during WWII, working in a speakeasy, all sorts of shenanegans about living on the farm, and only having received a few years of school, going for her GED while my mom was in high school. The problem here, is suffering through everything else she has to say, to get to these stories. Grandma has an amazing memory for how much things cost, how much she's bought and sold things for, and who married and divorced who.
Grandma lives in Senior Living apartments in Effingham, Illiois, which is the next town over from Altamont, Illinois, where she grew up and lived, and where my mom grew up and lived. Now lets get the first thing straight, Effingham and Altamont are not cute little country town, they are tiny little pieces of hell transported to Southern Illinois. I used to dread visiting Grandma because I'd have to see . . . Grandma, but I've realized that Grandma Julia is very much a product of her environment. These are old farm town, which over time have seen factories come in, and more recently, seen factories go. There's very little industry here. A good job is the day-shift at Walmart. Few people go to college, but for some reason, most who leave to get an education come back to Altamont. The women become school teachers. Dentists and Lawyers and Undertakers come back and take over the family businesses. There are lots of fast food places, lots of shiny looking chain stores in the middle of miserable strip malls. And cemetaries. Dear lord there are a lot of cemetaries here...
Here now, are some highlights:
One day we put Grandma in the car, and drove around town. We went to one cemetary to put new flowers on Grandpa's grave, then we went to another cemetary to put flowers on Grandma's parents graves. Their names were August and Augusta. :)
As we continued around town we saw the 1 room school house mom attended 1st grade in, saw the property that used to be in our family, the property that still is in our family, drove through all the cornfields, and kept passing cemetaries. Cemetaries are like the Starbucks of California, they're everywhere. Whenever we'd pass one, Grandma would start telling us about who was buried there, and how they died (because that's what you do when talking about dead people). Whenever we passed one, I started to ask "Grandma, who's buried there?" And she always had an answer.
We cooked for Grandma when we were there. We didn't go out to eat much because it was so expensive. We went out to Ryan's buffet on Monday. We couldn't go on Saturday or Sunday, because they charged more, and it was the same food! I think Grandma told me this at least 3 times a day every day. Ryan's was all of $25 for the 3 of us to go the buffet. And it was actually a good buffet, big salad bar, lots of meats, fried chicken, ribs, roast beef, burgers, pork, fish, desserts, veggies, rolls. While at Ryan's grandma had finished her dinner, and still had about 4 square inches of fish left. "Well, they don't let you put it back!" My mother and I did our best to ignore Grandma as she wrapped up the fish in a napkin, and put it in her purse. Now, I have no problems taking the uneaten roll, but fish??
When we cooked, we made such country delicacies as peas and potatoes in cream sauce. First, you take frozen peas, and potatoes (grandma uses canned potatoes, but we stepped it up and used fresh taters), and boil them. Then you heat up heavy cream, and mix in some cornstarch to thicken it. That's it! Then you put a tiny amount of the veggies into the glop of the cream sauce. I was so disgusted that I wrinsed my veggies off in the sink, because I could only handle 1 bite of the flavorless slop. Grandma thought it was heavenly. Grandma also insists on peeling tomatoes before eating them, which I find strange.
Grandma has plenty of silverwear, plates and glasses, but generally tends to use reused styrofoam cups, rewashed plastic forks, empty margarine tubs, and cool whip lids as plates. Mom and I broke into the 'good stuff.'
Throughout the trip Grandma kept trying to give me stuff. Being a packrat, and knowing the 'value' of things, she has a ton of stuff. She won't donate any of it, but she might sell it...if she could get a good price. But she tried to give me stuff. It was confusing, because one minute she'd be offering me glass salt and pepper dips (what they used before there were shakers), that her grandparents had brought over on the ship from Germany. The ship sank when it was a few miles from shore, and these were one of the few things my family had been able to save from going down. The next minute she'll be trying to offer me ugly sweaters from the free table. The free table is at her apartment, when someone dies, anything the kids, or whoever empties the apartment doesn't want, they leave for the other residents to hoard. No grandma, I don't want dead people's ugly clothes. For every 15 things she tried to give me, I really had to pick one or two to take to make her happy. I took a jewelry box that I think she bought at a garage sale, and a bunch of balls of scrap fabric, sown together into thin strips to make rugs. If you've been to my house, you know that I have a habbit of cutting up old clothes and making rugs, well apparently my great great grandmother did too. So I have some really cool old fabric. I tried on some of the ugly clothes, just for shits and giggles, and I think I made my mom pee her pants a few times. Old people love pants they can tuck their saggy boobs into the elastic waistband. No pictures of those outfits to share, you'd be too jealous of my sexyness.
Unfortunately, the fabric balls didn't fit in my suitcase, so we went to the only thrift store in town to buy a cheap suitcase. I'm pretty sure it was a Pro-Life store. But I donated to Planned Parenthood (in Sarah Palin's name!) so it balances out.
Grandma did sell some stuff, there was an antique/vintage store in town that took things on consignment. One of the things in there is a 1985 Cabbage Patch Doll. Originally bought for me as a gift, Grandma saw how I treated my other dolls, and decided that I wouldn't take care of it, so she didn't give it to me. (I was 2 at the time). So my mom bought me a Cabbage Patch Doll who I loved and was happy with. Mom says that Grandma never offered me the other doll. Grandma says that she offered it to me when I was 'older' but that I didn't want it. If she did, she probably waited til I was like 15, cause what kid would refuse another doll? Anyway, the doll, still in the box! is being sold for $75.
Being the month before an election, I thought we'd see more political signs out and about. There were lots of local school board or whatever, but very few Obama or McCain signs. One of the McCain signs said "Pro-life for McCain" boo. I wore my Obama button every day I was there. Grandma asked me the first day, what my button said, so I told her. I asked her what she thought of Obama. She told me that there were a lot of people that didn't think there could really be educated black men, but she guessed there were more and more these days. I asked her who she was voting for, and she didn't know. I told her that I was voting for Obama because he is a good man, and that I think he'll be good for our country. Grandma is voting this week, but I'm not sure who she'll end up choosing...
Grandma liked to talk about fat people. In restaurants, she'd point and smile, and say F-A-T (she'd spell it out) or she'd whisper it. And at home, of course if someone was fat, that was an integral part of any story. Mother especially didn't appreciate this, as grandma kept making underhanded remarks about Mom's weight.
On the last day we were there Mom was wearing a cute shirt with a V-neck, and a wide band underneath that tied in the back, and had a bit of an empire waist. Grandma kept pointing at Mom's boobs all morning and smiling at me, like we had some sort of an inside joke. Finally I said, "Doesn't mom look pretty, today?" To which she said "Well, she's got a titty tightener."
At one point, I think Grandma had run out of things to say, so she grabbed the phone book and started showing us pictures. Like the lawyers all had pictures, and she started telling us how this ones the father of that one, and his wife is so mean. Very strange.
One new story I got out of Grandma this trip: She was wearing a pretty silver ring one day, and I told her it was pretty. She said that her boyfriend had gotten it for her before he got shipped out in WWII. It was a 'friendship ring.' He didn't want to get her a diamond ring, because if he'd come back and didn't have an arm, or was crippled, he didn't want her to marry him out of pity. Unfortunately it was about 2 weeks after he was shipped out that he was killed in action. Sad!
Grandma then had to wait til the war was over and the men to come home before she could find a man, which meant Grandma didn't get married til she was in her 40s, and didn't have my mom until almost her mid-40s. Kind of strange for that time.
Grandma liked to complain about how there weren't very many men in her building, and the men that were there were almost all married, or were too young for her. She said she wanted a boyfriend so she had someone to ... talk to. She put this big dramatic space in when she said it, and I was so afraid she was going to tell me that she wanted to have old people sex.
One day the Lutheran minister came by. Mom was raised Lutheran, but is no longer a church going person, and me - never a church going person got to sit and get our own little private service with Grandma! We got to hear about being sheep, and having a shepard, and we prayed for the crops, and it was very exciting. Mom said that one of the reasons she left organized religion was because growing up the church folks were always the most gossipy judgemental people, and they held their religious morals over other people, and didn't use the religion to be good people and do good things.
While we were there Grandma got a call from one of Mom's high school friends, my mom's best friend in high school, Lucy, had passed away from cancer. Mom went to the memorial service, and left me with Grandma. Grandma kept asking how she looked, and couldn't understand that Lucy wasn't at her own memorial service, because she was being cremated. That was still kind of a no-no in the area. The area really has a culture of death, Mom said that most all of what people talked about at the memorial was how Lucy had died, how the cancer treatments were painful, how she was sick... Mom said little was said about how Lucy lived, which seems so strange because every memorial I've ever been to it's been almost taboo to talk about the person's death, you just remember how they lived. There was also lots of talk about one of Lucy's daughters, who was married to some asshole, who made her strip in St. Louis so he didn't have to work, and it was commonly known and gossiped about that he had to make sure not to beat her up too badly, or she wouldn't get good tips. Of course, everyone knew about this, but no one did anything about it. One of Lucy's sons was also rumored to be gay. This however, was much more hush hush. It's much more acceptable to be in an abusive marriage, than to be a closeted gay man in Effingham Illinois.
We also paid a visit to Reetha, another friend of my mom's back from high school, who we found out actually lived in the same building as Grandma! Yes...in the senior apartments. So happy to talk to someone sane, Mom and I went over and sat down on her couch. How are you, Reetha? Well... we got to sit for half an hour and listen to how she had become so close to her mother before her mother had passed away, and how she was the one who found her mother's body, and how hard it was now that her mother was gone. We also heard a little about how she used to be an alcoholic, and ended up being a crappy mom, but how that's getting better. We also learned that Reetha was in the Senior living apartments because she was on disability for 'mental reasons.' But mostly she just talked about her mom's death. And she cried. And after 30 minutes we excused ourselves and got the fuck out of there. Yes, everyone in Effingham is crazy. It's a culture of death, mixed with the desire to talk shit about people.
For some reason, no one really leaves the area, and those that do, always come back. People look at my mom like she's crazy for ever leaving, and ask her now that she's retired, if she'll be coming back. They don't understand. Mom said she felt like she always knew, that there was something more out there, better than this, so she went to college, and got out. I'm so thankful she did.
And now I leave you with a picture from the Giant Cross. The Giant Cross was erected by the president of the DAV (Disabled American Veterans), because he was the only one willing to climb up on the scaffolding to finish the welding at the very top. Does that seem strange to anyone else?? All I can say is thank God I'm back home.
Also, I love my Mommy.
