Big Red
I am sad this morning because my Gammie Evelyn died. Here's a picture from when she came to Portland last month for her 91st birthday. (with Maria, Shannon Wheeler, my mom & lil' tuxedo Max)... And an incomplete story I wrote a few months ago...
Big Red
My Gammie Evelyn drives a big red Cadillac. She calls it Big Red and it smells like Coco Chanel.
We speed all over Orange County because Big Red can handle the speed bumps and the police never stop my Gammie when she’s driving Big Red. It’s summertime, of course. It’s always summertime in Orange County because I’m on break from school and the sun is shining. It might be summer break or Thanksgiving break or winter break or spring break. It doesn’t matter. It’s summertime when she picks me up at John Wayne Airport and my Gammie says, “You’re beautiful, Ariel, but you’ve got to be kidding with that hair. Can’t you put it up? I mean, honestly.”
“You’re marvelous of course,” she says. "Do you have a beau?”
“No,” I tell my Gammie. I don’t have a beau.
And she says, “Well, not now, but soon the fellows will want to take you out and just remember, you don’t pay. When a fellow takes you out, he pays the bill."
I am 12 years old and I listen intently because my Gammie is beautiful and she wears red lipstick and she paints her long fingernails red and she wears her hair in a bun tied with a bright red scarf as she speeds down the Pacific Coast Highway in Big Red.
My Gammie Evelyn's house is painted coral orange.
Inside, there is soft, plush coral carpet, and in the guest bedroom soft, plush yellow monogrammed towels.
How are her towels always so soft?
On the low black coffee table in the living room there's a big crystal bowl full of mint and chocolate candy.
How is the candy never stale?
I sit on the plush carpet in front of the coffee table and I eat and I eat and I wonder how my grandmother keeps the bowl full, how she keeps herself from eating it all when she gets up in the middle of the night to pour herself a glass of milk and bourbon.
Big Red
My Gammie Evelyn drives a big red Cadillac. She calls it Big Red and it smells like Coco Chanel.
We speed all over Orange County because Big Red can handle the speed bumps and the police never stop my Gammie when she’s driving Big Red. It’s summertime, of course. It’s always summertime in Orange County because I’m on break from school and the sun is shining. It might be summer break or Thanksgiving break or winter break or spring break. It doesn’t matter. It’s summertime when she picks me up at John Wayne Airport and my Gammie says, “You’re beautiful, Ariel, but you’ve got to be kidding with that hair. Can’t you put it up? I mean, honestly.”
“You’re marvelous of course,” she says. "Do you have a beau?”
“No,” I tell my Gammie. I don’t have a beau.
And she says, “Well, not now, but soon the fellows will want to take you out and just remember, you don’t pay. When a fellow takes you out, he pays the bill."
I am 12 years old and I listen intently because my Gammie is beautiful and she wears red lipstick and she paints her long fingernails red and she wears her hair in a bun tied with a bright red scarf as she speeds down the Pacific Coast Highway in Big Red.
My Gammie Evelyn's house is painted coral orange.
Inside, there is soft, plush coral carpet, and in the guest bedroom soft, plush yellow monogrammed towels.
How are her towels always so soft?
On the low black coffee table in the living room there's a big crystal bowl full of mint and chocolate candy.
How is the candy never stale?
I sit on the plush carpet in front of the coffee table and I eat and I eat and I wonder how my grandmother keeps the bowl full, how she keeps herself from eating it all when she gets up in the middle of the night to pour herself a glass of milk and bourbon.
posted by Contact at 11:09 PM
6 Comments:
Oh, Ariel! My heart is with you. Now we know why everyone was in Portland at the same time, right? Thank god/dess/es, that you all had that time together.
I love you. The story is beautiful, and I know you will finish it as a loving and heart-full tribute to the grand lady who was your Gamma.
Love always.
Brought a tear to my eye - such fun memories, such a sad loss. We need to write these things down for our kids - so they don't forget the stories we tell them about their family. *Hugs*
So sorry for your loss. Your grandmother was beautiful, as well as your story. Stories of women in relationships always grab me by the heart. Thank you for sharing yours.
I am also sorry for your loss. My grandfather passed away last year in Oct - today is actually his birthday, he would have been 92. Grandma is still with us and we love her dearly at 89. It's hard to grow older and start to see death more often. Gammie sounds like a fabulously colorful person like yourself. I love Gammie's story and your writing as always. Hugs to you.
Lovely bit of story. Sorry you had to lose her. :(
My great-grandmother always had a crystal bowl of candy on the coffee table in her apartment in New York... And my grandmother is about to turn 90 this fall.
I think I am sending a friend to your Thursday AM class.
Ariel,
I'm sorry about your Gammie. I wondered, when you posted something on Facebook about losing someone, if it was your grandmother. I remember you talking about her in HipMama. My own grandmother died seven years ago at the age of 91. She also had a crystal candy dish. And I've been writing about her on and off ever since. Keep writing about her; not only is she important to you, but she is interesting to those who didn't know her. Heartfelt condolences.
Gillian
Post a Comment
<< Home