Oprah Magazine

I got my Oprah Magazine today. I read it twice before setting it aside. It was about aging gracefully, it comes ready or not. Like most of the issues, it makes one examine yourself. I often hear on TV shows and movies how Grandma would beat the character with her cane if the character ever disrespected her or did something terribly wrong, sending the message that a frail woman is not afraid of her bigger and stronger grandchildren. Though neither of my grandmas ever walked with a cane, both protected me when I did wrong. They were full of love and could sniff out when something was bothering me. It never occurred to me that these strong and powerful women were fragile creatures. I mean strong in their spirit to weather any storm. I mean powerful in the context of making clear to their children that they are not too big to help clear the dinner table.

And I never thought my wonderful grandmas as ugly old hags. Sure they had gray hair and wrinkles along with the bad back, but I believed they were beautiful women. I learned early in life to respect my grandparents because they know more than little me and see around corners I never knew existed. My Mom always stressed good manners around my grandparents and never leave a mess of toys for them to pick up. I certainly never liked friends who never helped me pick up when they played at my house. Another thing the magazine mentioned was fear. Fear itself is worse than the thing we fear happening, aging. At least that was the message I recieved.

My best example of my Mom's Mom teaching me to face my fears occurred accidently when I refused to help Grandma do the laundry. Mom gave a stern lecture about being lazy and ungrateful. I grabbed the laundry bag and followed Grandma into their dungeon basement draggig it on the steps. My brother had informed me of monsters in their basement, huge spiders the size of my hand and rats the size of dogs. At age 3 one believes everything one is told, why do you think they are afraid of the Big Bad Wolf? So I crept down the steps gripping the handrail terrified of being eaten by monsters and wondered if Grandma could fight them. Halfway down, Grandma turned around asking why I was acting so scared to come with her, I told ya she sniffed things out of me. I explained in tears what my brother said and Grandma just laughed. She gripped my tiny hand and I dragged the laundry bag on the floor as we stepped down into their spooky pitch black basement. I jumped at the sound of water rushing through the pipes asking if the monster was sleeping. She turned on the light and behold, no monsters. Just a cement room with cobwebs and a chirping cricket under the dryer Grandma squished with her shoe later when the dryer shook. And jars of food on the walls. I learn to face fear instead of being crippled by it that day. Often things are not as bad as they seem, including aging. At least I got my brother in trouble for an hour, he deserved it. Post later. Bye!