My grandmother died right before I was born, and over J-term break I asked my mom to tell me stories about her- trying to gain a sense of who she was and what parts of her I can make tangible by recognizing in my mother and I. Here's a snapshot of one moment of my Grandmothers life (certainly a character reveiling one (This applies to the previous blog too):

Some people are just BORN more comfortable with themselves than others. In this case we are referring to the comfort level having to do with how one walks about the house ‘dressed’. For example, my Grandpa Kirk always at least wore banana pants (loose khakis) and a colored t-shirt and socks. My Grandma Jean felt very comfortable in a bra and underwear. I might add that she was frequently appalled at the circumstances her ‘comfortableness’ left her in. She had to ‘recover’ from some pretty interesting situations.
Grandpa Kirk and Grandma Jean enjoyed having life, lots of life, around them. After most of the kids were grown and married it left just them at home, rattling around in that big ranch house on the farm. Grandma Jeans favorite state of existence was either ‘not quite up yet’ or ‘going to bed eventually’. Perhaps this was because with five kids she was tired all the time.
Anyways, back to her ‘state of existence’….
Grandma Jean, the shy, wilting flower, frequently sat in the living room reading the paper or Ladies Home Journal or Women’s Day magazines, or cutting out articles from the ‘International Arabian Horse Times’. She always had a project in progress; a bit of business news she was discussing with her parents over coffee, a particular horse bloodline she was considering for her herd, a color or theme change in the garden. She would sit on the couch surrounded by papers and magazines, tablets, pens and scissors. She never was so busy that she couldn’t stop and chat with her kids, though, and so they never had to find the right time to approach her. She was always approachable and usually in her ‘state of existence’.
Here’s the rub….
My Aunt Missy had a brother, Meade, who had finished school and was living in our basement as an apartment. Meade was either taking his last few classes or working. He was a nice enough guy, glad for a place to stay (he was from Florida), and enjoyed the privacy of the basement because it had a separate entrance from the house.
Meade had a key and would walk around back and down to the basement, never having to speak to a soul if he didn’t want to. That was all working out just fine and nobody had to change their habits to accommodate Meade. Right? Wrong! One evening Meade had forgotten to leave with his house key.



















This gets funny…..
Meade came to the front door. The door was locked. Meade went around to the kitchen door. The door was locked. Meade knocked on the door. Grandma Jean got up and went to the kitchen. Grandma opened the door. Meade walked in. Grandma was wearing her ‘comfortable clothes’. At this point it would be important to remember from a previous story that Grandma Jean grew up in a Victorian family. That means Very Proper.
Now we’ll go to
“And I quote”…
Meade: Sorry, I forgot my key
Grandma: OOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! Then she recovers quickly, being a properly brought up woman…
Grandma: Good evening, Meade. She looks around the well lit utility room she was standing in.
Meade: So, I’ll just be….
Grandma: How was your evening, Meade? She grabs a tea towel….always polite.
Meade: Well, I was at a movie with Kathy. Meade shifts back and forth on his feet
Grandma: Oh, what movie? She places the little tea towel strategically in front of her, covering perhaps one breast?
Meade: (shares about the film)
Grandma: (arranges the tea towel, leans against the freezer, thinks about death)
Grandma: Well, it’s getting late...
Meade: YES! (Breathes) I THINK I’LL GO TO BED NOW
Grandma: YES, Goodnight then, Meade
Meade: walks quickly towards the basement steps
Grandma: breaks out in a sweat