My Grandma Namian had a lot on her plate. With Grandpa being an old school Armenian, he treated Ethel as more of a servant than his wife. He called her DAT DAMN ETTLE. Never deviated. Probably tortured her endlessly in the delivery room for taking so long.
And in the kitchen? God awful. We’d fake eat Sunday dinner then dash to my mother’s family starving. Ethel’s boiled chicken didn’t go down smoothly and the presentation wasn’t exactly appetizing. She had red patches of eczema all over herself. She wore a drab housecoat with tissues tucked in the sleeve, knee highs and white cotton gloves. She’d reach into that stove and grab just about anything sans oven mitts. She was hard core, that one.
The eczema was legit as it took a village of Valiums to last a day with her husband. After dinner she’d polish off a tray of Whitman’s chocolate samplers. Seems even she couldn’t eat her own food. I‘d look away when she squeezed the cherry ones as they squirted causing her hands to look bloodier than Lady Macbeth’s.
Grandpa loved his grandsons. His Easter gift was a jar full of coins. We counted them in front of him as he beamed with pride. This was his great American dream. He never bought frivolous things and clearly didn’t drop a dime on his wife’s wardrobe. Instead he bought real estate, like an entire block of it. While he lacked in people skills he had sharp business savvy.
His favorite line? Man’s best friend … dollar bill.
So one Easter, my mother bought my grandmother some tulips to brighten her dreary life.
Grandpa: Oh she’ll kill dat ting in ten minutes, dat damn Ettle.
Grandma: How often do I need to water them?
Well that became a daily question. At 9 AM she’d call my mother to ask if she should water them. Well the flowers were plastic. Tulips have a short shelf life yet Ethel considered herself a precursor to Martha Stewart as her tulips looked the same all year long. She bragged to the neighbors about her green thumb when in fact it was more of a chocolate stained one.
One day during a summer heatwave, she brought the tulips outside to take advantage of the sunshine. Well the poor things melted, leaving behind a pile of plastic stuck to the driveway.
The next day the 9 AM call jingled in.
Grandma: (sobbing) I should’ve watered them more.
My mother didn’t have the heart to tell her they were plastic and crush the only inkling of pride she had left. So later that night she drove to the scene of the crime, cleaned up the evidence and left a brand new arrangement.
As much as family runs you ragged, there’s times when they know exactly how to lift our spirits.
Happy Easter.