True Confessions of a Grandmother

The day after my granddaughter Samantha's 21st birthday I found myself "keeping her company" on the phone while she drove from her friend's house in Bloomington back to South Bend, her home for the summer, before returning to college.

Asking her what exciting thing she did to celebrate her birthday, I was glad to hear that it was a pleasant transition to adulthood.....dinners, parties with friends, etc. I confided to her that my own 20th year had been a really confusing one. I even recited the little verse that I had written when I became "official".

"You see", I explained to her, "when I was 20, that was the year that I got dumped. (Long pause) "Yes, dumped", I told her, "and by your Pop-Pop!) It went like this:
I was going out with Pop=Pop all summer. We hit it off. We had fun. His friends became my friends and vice versa. We were going "steadily" as it was called then, and as I detected a soft giggle in the background, I kept the story going, knowing how much of a kick Sam gets when hearing stories about my youthful flings.

"One night he said he had to talk to me about something serious, and as my heart pounded in anticipation of something more solid (he really was quite charming) he told me he didn't think we should continue seeing each other so frequently. . He was not ready for a commitment, etc., etc.,etc. Of course, I told him I felt the same, and that we would always remain friends.

Three long and agonizing weeks ensued, as I imagined him out dancing with some gorgeous babe and having a gay old time (in those days, that WAS an acceptably descriptive word). One Sunday morning the phone rang. My mother answered the phone. She said, "You = know -who is on the line". It was Paul. I said, audibly, "Oh, it's Stanley!!!" and picked up the phone with an enthusiastic, "Hi, Stan!". He said, "Hi, it's me". His voice was not easily disguised. "Did you miss me?" he asked. "Were you away?" I answered.

He asked if I wanted to go to a movie. I said no. He mentioned a few other options. I said no. Then he said, "Well, can I come over?" I said, "If you don't think that would look like a commitment or something". As my mother, the eavesdropper, stood by I felt kind of guilty, but, what the heck, I was 20 and single and I didn't need anyone in my life who was so willing to make me a "dumpee". "Such a nice young man", Mom said, "why are you so mean to him?". What do mothers know about male/female relationships?

So over he came. The conversation was forced. I, filing my nails nonchalantly, and Paul talking mostly to my mother. We were preparing to move to a new house in Riggs Park, and Paul managed to perform the act of endearment that remained with my mother for the rest of her days. "Mrs. Steinberg", he said, "may I help you pack?"

The next few hours were spent taking paintings down from the walls and wrapping them in newspaper and filling boxes with lampshades and books and what-have-you. His reward was Mom's invitation to him to stay for dinner. Still playing it cool, I was about to turn 21 on a joyful note.

"And so", dear Samantha, that was the re-beginning of your Mimi and Poppop's relationship. Eventually, we both made the commitment which lasted 45 and a half years.........one of the best commitments of our lives.

By the way, the little verse I had recited to Sam went like this:

Oh, wonderful twenty
Oh, joy mixed with strife
The greatest. most miserable
Year of my life!
Cried barrels of tears
For each moment of fun,
But that has all changed
NOW THAT I'M TWENTY-ONE