Day 57: Raising A Glass To Pauline

All it took was a handful of cheap chow mein noodles at dinner to bring my paternal grandmother right back to me. I’ve not had those little round crunchy ones — or my Gramma — for many years.

We don’t get to choose, after all. Who knows what my descendants will remember about me? I should be so lucky that it’s as innocuous as a noodle.

“You remember Granny Missy – the smelly one with big ears who paneled her kitchen with corks from all the wine she drank?”

Gramma O’B would invite me over for Chinese food, just the two of us. There wasn’t an Asian restaurant within 20 miles. She bought canned chicken chow mein that came with a smaller can of those noodles. She baked little frozen egg rolls and opened a jar of plum sauce. She made green tea and served pineapple for dessert. We feasted.

My grandmother was indomitable. In her later years, my dad stopped by often to check on her. He once walked in through the kitchen and saw her feet sticking out of the pantry at an odd angle. He crossed himself, said a little prayer for her, and prepared for the worst.

She was indeed lying there on the floor – scrubbing the tight corners of the pantry with a toothbrush.

Dad kept an eye on her bank account, too, and pointed out one day that since her car was paid for she needn’t continue setting aside money for it every month. “That’s for the next one,” said she, pushing 90 at the time.

I didn’t inherit her perseverance, I’m afraid. But I hope she saw something of herself in me. And I hope she knew how much those quiet little dinners meant to me, even though I was too young and stupid to tell her so.

2 thoughts on “Day 57: Raising A Glass To Pauline

  1. Tony

    Canned Chinese was the only Asian food I knew until I was in my late teens. It seemed pretty tasty at the time, but since getting a taste of the “real” stuff, I have kicked the can, so to speak.

    • I’ll bet you remember Chef Boyardee pizza kits in a box, too: A little bag of flour for the crust, a tiny can of plain sauce, and a sprinkle of parmesan? They still make them (I just checked), but they lack the vintage charm of yesteryear (like me, I suppose). That was the only pizza I knew as a kid.

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