Granny, Telie, and Me

I mentioned previously that I dabbled in children’s stories. I even went so far as to attend a weekend writing workshop in Vermont in the 90s. Is it just me or does it sometimes seem like the state of Vermont is the Workshop state not the Green Mountain state?

A: I'm going to a workshop for people who own incontinent pugs.
B: Oh, that sounds lovely. Where is it?
A: Vermont.
B: Oh, Vermont is the perfect state for a workshop! By the way, have you tried those doggie diapers?!

During the course of this workshop, I had to do a lot of writing exercises. On the first day, we were subjected to some rapid-firing writing exercises. The expert children’s book author who led the workshop would say a few words, and then we had to write a story about it in a minute; I failed miserably at all those exercises and was ready to head directly to the border of the Workshop state after a morning of that nonsense.

I was a s-l-o-w writer. Actually, upon reflection, I couldn’t even understand the point of the exercise. Did someone walk up to Roald Dahl, sputter “Eccentric man, dwarfs, and chocolate,” and did Roald then pump out the first five chapters of “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory” in under a minute? I think not.

That afternoon, we had a group exercise. For this one, fortunately, we were given about an hour. We had to write a letter from a child to a famous person; I wrote a letter to Madonna, which is pretty surprising, huh? You probably pegged me for a letter to Mario Andretti, Warren Buffet, or Napoleon, didn’t you?

Dear Madonna,

You’ll never believe it, but my Mother won’t let me wear the bustier I bought to the dance. I’ve got a date with Eric, who’s really fine, and now I have nothing to wear! My Mom’s so uncool.

That’s why I’m writing to you to ask if you need someone to carry your Gucci luggage, organize your makeup, and keep track of your busy social calendar. I’m a good organizer, because I’m the secretary of the Students Against Fur club at school. If you need a personal assistant, I’m your Material Girl! I even know all the lyrics to your songs in case you ever need a backup singer. I have a halfway decent voice; I’m in a band, the Righteous Rockers. We’re even playing at the dance.

I really want to pierce my belly button like you, but I know my Mom would freak. I just wanted to get a few more holes pierced in my ear, and she said, “You have enough holes in your head already!” She’s a nurse, and she took care of my ear when it got infected before.

So you can see what I’m up against here. I heard that you have a lot of great stuff in California, although I’d probably miss the dance, Eric, my band, the club, and maybe my Mom, just a little bit anyway. Well, maybe I’ll stay here for a while, and see how things go. You can just mail me some of your old bustiers instead if you want!

Sincerely,

Susan

The final writing assignment was to produce a short story. I remember that I stayed at my Dad’s cousin’s house in Vermont for the weekend; while I wanted to visit and chat with her, I had to banish myself to the guest bedroom to think of an idea for a story, never mind write it.

There I was on the bed with a laptop that I had borrowed from a friend of Quinn’s. This was 1994, so the laptop must have weighed about 10 pounds. Okay, maybe not that much, but I remember sitting there feeling like a real writer with a spiffy computer until I realized my tabula was totally rasa making me want to flee the Workshop state once again.

I think that was a turning point in my writing career. Okay, up until then, I really had no writing career other than my professional one as a technical writer. I used to write a lot of silly e-mails to friends; actually, The Legend of the Easter Cat and The Legend of the Easter Dog began as
e-mails to friends at work, err, when I wasn’t really busy working, of course.

I knew I wanted to write something from the perspective of a young girl. I thought about when I was a young girl. I asked myself what were some of the nicest times I remembered; I knew that some of them were spent with my grandmother, Granny.

I remember spending a night or two at her house every now and then. My Mom would drop me off, and I’d look forward to “Granny time.” Staying with Granny always involved staying up late to watch the news while eating peppermint patties that were always stocked in her refrigerator, eating pizza from the Lynwood Café, hunting down her red tabby cat, Charlie, who she fed chicken livers, and always going out to a movie.

Ask me who I saw Star Wars with in 1977? Go ahead, and –hint– the answer is not George Clooney; some day the answer will be George Clooney, but today it’s not! I saw Star Wars with Granny on one of my many trips to visit her; I also saw the remake of Psycho with her. She liked scary movies, which always amazed me, because your grandmother’s picture is definitely not next to the definition of “scary” in the dictionary!

As grandmothers go, she was pretty cool. Her husband, my grandfather, had died very young and before I was born. Funny, but I think my grandmother was the first independent woman I spent time with.

She was fortunate in that she didn’t have to work, but for someone who was on her own, well, the grass didn’t seem to grow under her feet at all; she always seemed to be on the go. I loved it when her “go” mode brought her to our house; with her, she brought a varying assortment of treasures in a brown paper bag filled with magazines (our favorite was the “National Enquirer”), pickles, and always a box of Ring Dings.

She mowed her little lawn with an electric lawn mower. I was always fascinated by her yard. It wasn’t large at all; and most of her small yard was behind her house. I think it was maybe 40’ by 20', and her yard was split in half by a stone wall, making the second half of the yard elevated in the back.

There were a few steps to climb until you reached a rickety little house that had been made for children. It smelled musty and maybe a tad of cat urine, but I loved the little house. I remember that odor like I remember the way the old Wonder Bread factory in Framingham used to smell; it’s a smell you never forget, even if it didn’t smell so good, because the memory was that good.

As you walked along the raised portion, the yard was almost like a small jungle or a secret garden due to the varying and overgrown flora and fauna. I remember my grandmother’s house had a three-season porch on which she had a small table and two chairs. Sometimes we’d take our pizza out on the porch, eat, and then look out upon her lovely little secret jungle.

I also liked the way she saved paper most would have thrown away. If the paper was blank on the back, she ripped it up into 4”x4” squares and then piled them up on her shelf. She used them for notepaper; maybe that's where my Mom got the recycling bug from, and now I have it too.

When I was in college, I used to get a card from her every few weeks. There was nothing like looking in your mail box (#2690, and I can’t believe I still remember it!) back then and seeing that you had gotten (snail) mail. When I opened the card, there would be funny little jokes plastered all over the inside that she had cut out from Reader’s Digest.

She made sure later to ask if I, being a Latin scholar (cough, cough), enjoyed the rendition of “Two all beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions on a sesame seed bun” written in Latin. She obviously loved finding that treasure for me. I told her that I even showed it to my Latin professor, and she was tickled pink.

Inspired by my time spent with my grandmother, I began to write my story for the workshop. When I had returned home, I sent my story to a few magazines. I received a rejection letter from Cricket Magazine with a handwritten note; though, remember that a rejection letter with a handwritten note is an “almost” letter!

The note said, “Although I didn’t find this quite right for Cricket, I would like to complement you on your writing. You’ve done a lovely job of drawing your characters. Good luck with your writing”. (By the way, given she was the first reader, I was surprised that she didn't spell compliment correctly. Although, as advertised, she was a reader not a speller. Hey, it's always comforting to find a flaw in someone who's "almosting" you!)

The funny thing was I didn’t really have to draw any characters. I was fortunate enough to have lived the essence of this story with my grandmother, Telie. And, this is our story. ♥

Granny, Telie, and Me

(Nota bene: It was the early 90s; Kevin Costner was fine! And, Ruth was my Mom's name.)

“Reason 25 to add to the list,” Ruthie said taking her pad and pen out of her backpack. Granny’s big, orange tabby circled around in her lap, curled up, then began to knead her sweatshirt.

Ruthie’s mother had just dropped her off at her grandmother’s that afternoon for a weekend visit. Ruthie had called it her two-day pass all week long. When Ruthie’s mother had dropped her off, Ruthie was sure that her mother was just as happy to see her go as Ruthie was to leave. She had looked forward to time away from the apartment, her younger sister, her older brother, and all the rest of the reasons.

“What’s Reason 25?” asked Granny, as she poured Ruthie another cup of tea.

“Reason 25 is not being able to have a cat because we live in that apartment,” Ruthie stated as she scribbled Reason 25 onto her list.

“What’s on this list exactly, Ruthie?” asked Granny.

Ruthie reluctantly handed Granny her pad.

“The Things That Bum Me Out,” Granny read. “Reason 1: I live in apartment. Reason 2: I’m going to a new school. Reason 3: I’m getting zits. Reason 4: My brother calls me “Ruthie, Ruthie the big, fat caboosie” constantly. Reason 5: I am called a Geek at school because I get good
grades and read a lot.”

Granny stopped reading and handed the pad to Ruthie. “Ruthie, I thought you were excited about the new school.”

“I was until everything got rotten all at once,” said Ruthie as she took the pad from Granny and returned it to her book bag.

“Ruthie, did I ever tell you about my friend, Telie?” asked Granny. Granny got up from her chair, went over to the bookcase, and pulled out a worn photo album.

“Well, maybe,” said Ruthie, hoping to avoid a repeat of Aunt Jenny’s photo extravaganza last Sunday. She had shown photos of the family trip to the Grand Canyon, which contained photo after photo of her cousins pretending to hold up rock formations. That was so boring thought Ruthie.

“I never told you about my friend, Telie, or as her brother used to call her Telie Two Tons.”

Granny sat down, opened the album, and began leafing through the pages. Ruthie sighed and sat down next to Granny.

“There’s Telie,” Granny said, as she pointed to a photo of a young girl who looked to be about Ruthie’s age.

“She doesn’t look like a Telie Two Tons to me,” said Ruthie as she studied the photo.

“She was never really that heavy,” said Granny. “Her older brother liked to make her think she was though.”

In the photo, Telie wore a white puffy blouse. Her long brown hair was pulled back in a braid and, at the neck of her blouse, she wore a beautiful diamond broach.

“Telie’s parents had moved to a new town because her father bought a larger store for their bakery,” said Granny. “She was so upset. She had to go to a new school. Her classmates weren’t kind either,” said Granny.

“Why?” asked Ruthie.

“Well, because she had some of the same problems or reasons as you call them. She liked to read a lot. She was a big girl. She occasionally had a blemish or two. To make matters worse, her parents had asked her to work at the bakery after school.”

“Gee, she does sound kind of like me,” sighed Ruthie. “Did the kids at school call her a Geek, too?”

“We didn’t have that name then,” said Granny. “But, she took her share of name calling.”

“Did she have a list, too?” asked Ruthie.

“No,” said Granny. “But, she let her parents know how unhappy she was. In fact, she almost picked up and ran away the day that her father had hired one of the local boys, George Daily, to help out after school also. He always teased her.”

“Wow, that is cruel and usual punishment,” said Ruthie.

“Well, one Saturday afternoon,” said Granny. “Her father had to make a delivery in the city. He had to ask Telie to work with George to make the doughnuts for Sunday.”

“What a bummer,” said Ruthie.

“Ruthie was waiting on a customer, so George went in the back to start the doughnuts. Suddenly, Telie heard George shouting. She ran into the kitchen and saw that George had started a huge grease fire. He was furiously throwing water on the fire. Telie shoved him aside, picked up a 20 pound bag of flour, and threw it on the fire. In a minute, the fire was out.”

“She was able to lift a big bag of flour?” asked Ruthie.

“Well,” said Granny. “She was a big girl, but she was a strong girl."

“She was smart, too,” said Ruthie.

“She was,” said Granny. “When her father got home and learned what had happened he was quite proud. In fact, George relayed the story to everyone at school. Telie was a hero of sorts. If she hadn’t been there, the whole block might have gone up in smoke.”

“So, did things get better for her?” asked Ruthie.

“Slowly,” said Granny. “She grew taller and got thinner. She made good friends who got to know her for what were really her strengths not her weaknesses. After the fire, her father gave her the diamond broach that she’s wearing in this photo. Well, they weren’t really diamonds; they were rhinestones. But, do you know what the card with it said?” asked Granny.

“What?” asked Ruthie.

“It said, 'To Telie, a diamond going through the rough.'”

“Wow, that was nice,” said Ruthie.

Granny gave her a pat on the head, got up, and said, “We’d better hoof it if we’re going to do something fun this afternoon. I’ll go get my sweater and purse.”

Ruthie pulled her list out from her backpack and looked at it again. Well, thought Ruthie, at least this Geek could put out a grease fire. Some of those kids at school would probably need help figuring out how to light a match!

Granny came back with her sweater, her handbag, and a box. She handed the box to Ruthie.

“What’s this?” asked Ruthie.

“Open it,” said Granny.

“A bunch of snakes aren’t going to come flying out at me like last time, are they, Granny?” questioned Ruthie suspiciously.

“No, I promise,” said Granny. “Open it, Ruthie.”

Ruthie opened the box. In it lay the pin that Telie wore in the photo. “Telie’s pin?” wondered Ruthie. “How did you get it?” Ruthie saw Granny grin. “Wait a minute,” said Ruthie. “Is Telie you, Granny?” asked Ruthie.

“Let’s just say,” said Granny. “I was once a diamond going through the rough, and I think you are, too. Now, let me see your pad and pen, Ruthie,” said Granny. “I think you need to start a new list.”

Ruthie handed her the pad. Granny flipped to a new sheet of paper, wrote something, and handed the pad back to Ruthie.

Granny’s list was called “Things That Make Me Special.” There was only one item on the list, which Granny had underlined several times, and it was “I am a wonderful granddaughter.”

“Thanks!” cried Ruthie as she hugged Granny.

“Let’s go and see that new Kevin Costner movie. He’s the cat’s pajamas, right?” asked Granny.

Ruthie giggled. “No, Granny. He’s fine!” said Ruthie as she crumpled up all the reasons and threw them into the trash can.