We’re here. One of my favorite places. My grandpa’s assisted living center.
I’m don’t mean it sarcastically. Staying here (and this isn’t my first time) beats any accommodation. The people here are awesome. When I’m old, I’m going to be as crazy as I can. Even if I am completely lucid, I will feign a mild form of dementia.
My grandpa speaks of his dementia as one would a puppy–endearingly and forgiving of any mischief it causes.
An hour ago he dropped a, you-can’t-blame-me-I-have-dementia, when he told the center’s director that I had been singing a song about me being her boyfriend last night. This is true. I did sing about that. But I’m going to play the “My grandpa made me do it” card on this one.
I consider him to blame. When Granpa-A learned that I make up songs on the spot, he requested (demanded) that I sing about his injury in the Korean war, then about how he met my grandma, and then that I sing about her.
“Sing one about Jennifer being your boyfriend,” he insisted again and again. I demurred. He insisted. I caved. I made him promise not to speak of the song to anyone.
This morning he casually mentioned, “I told Jennifer about the song you sang about her last night and she really wants to hear it.” Great. Now Jennifer thinks I am the creepiest guy ever. She thinks I’m the kind of guy who after knowing her for less than an hour goes to my grandfather’s room to sing secret songs behind her back.
“I told you not to tell anyone about that song grandpa,” I said, realizing that I will forever be thought of as the “creepy grandson in Jennifer’s eyes.” I don’t blame her. Today, I am that guy.
The Third Passenger on The Road Trip
We helped my grandpa finish packing today. He’s moving to Bismarck. So ND better watch out. He gave us the urn containing my grandmother’s ashes. He wants us to drive it to Bismarck. Does anyone know if this is legal? To cross state-lines with my grandmother’s ashes? In any case, she loved to travel and we’re happy to have her for the tail end of our road trip.
Grandpa Wants Us To Be Fruitful and Multiple
Oh yes, the great grand kids. After my grandma passed away, my grandpa met a woman in his first assisted living center (I think he got thrown out of that one for hosting dog fights in the furnace room). The woman later followed him to his new center in Forest Grove, OR. Her name is Ethel Brown, but everyone calls her Tootsie (which would be a socially devestating nickname if she were a 15 year old boy). She has 37 great grand kids. Grandpa-A has zero.
My grandpa takes competitiveness to a new level. For him everything is a competition. If someone has more of something than you, it’s your job to get more and win. He’s all but made me promise that I will get married within three years and make him some “goddam” great grandkids. He doesn’t seem picky. Anyone will do.
But I think I might be able to get a good one. I’m feeling pretty overconfident at the moment. That’s another part I love about the assisted living center. Every woman–EVERY SINGLE ONE–tells Tyler and I what handsome young men we are. They encourage us to marry their granddaughters. Some of them have heard about Facebook and inform us that we can find their granddaughters on there.
Music for the Masses
Grandpa set up (insisted and demanded) a show for us last night in the dining room. The old women said we did very well. They clapped loudly from their wheel chairs and some banged canes against their tables. We think this might increase our odds with their granddaughters.
After dinner Grandpa wrote a song for Tootsie and her dog, Bobby.
Then my grandpa wanted us to play a “private show” for Tootsie, to sing about her dog, among other things.
What makes Tyler and I rediculously happy, is that my Grandpa is going to be moving to Bismarck, where we will get to see more of him. He’s 84 and 30 years ago was given less than a year to live due to a heart condition he had. He’s still here. And damn we’re glad he is.
He’s not just our grandpa. He’s our people and our kinda person. I don’t know anyone with such a joie de vivre. Everywhere we go, people tell us how much joy he brings them and how happy they are to know him. From the staff to the residents, he doesn’t go through life softly, he goes through it loud and joyful and anytime I can be in the same room as him is a good time.
