In the year 2075 I will be as old as my Grandpa JoJo is right now. For those of you doing the math and know what year I was born (1984) that would make me 91 years old. I consider myself and my dad's side of the family extremely fortunate because even at 91 years old, my Gramps is still pretty sharp mentally. He hasn't gone off the deep end with dementia, or forgetfulness, or daydreaming he's somewhere else. He hasn't gotten tired of life yet, which to me is pretty astounding for someone 91 years old. Gramps is slowing down in other ways - can't walk in a straight line, moves slowly in all aspects, has trouble getting up from the couch... well, except when it's 5:00 and someone calls out "Manhattans are up!". He springs up like he was ejected from an F-14 that had just been hit by ze Germans.
I guess overall, he's still doing pretty ok. He's down to stay with us for a couple of days now. He'll spend most of the mornings here taking an hour and a half to eat 2 pancakes and drink 2 cups of coffee. When he's done he'll pick up the paper, (Newsday, in our house) and read every single article in it, whether interesting or not. He'll then read some of the comics and turn to the crossword and start the puzzle but will realize that in the time it took him to switch from the main paper to the comic section, he put his glasses away somewhere and cannot read the infinitesimally small print that they make you read to do the crossword. I'll locate his glasses then sit with him while we do the crossword, all the while astounded that he will never believe that I read him the clue accurately.
"17 across... Poet Whitman" I'll say.
"Huh? Where are you looking?"
"17 across Gramps."
"17... What's it say?"
"Where is it?"
At which point I'll point to the 17 across clue and he'll crane over the paper, squint his eyes and say aloud, "Poet Whitman...."
He'll look to the puzzle and finish, "Walt. Yea. It's gotta be Walt."
It's a long and tedious process, but I actually get a kick out of it, tallying how many times we have this conversation.
Gramps is terribly slow when it comes to eating meals. It truly is incredible. Hell, he's got nothing to rush for, so he really really reaaallllly takes his time. In real time, if we sat down at the dinner table together and both started eating at the same time, I could finish my meal, have seconds, unbutton my pants button, digest, get a piece of cake, make tea, eat the cake while my tea cools down to drinking temperature, drink my tea, take the dog around the block, write an email, have a bowl of ice cream, play a round of darts, take a nap and come back to the table only to find that Gramps still has half a piece of pork and some vegetables left to eat. I'm exaggerating of course. He'd probably have finished the pork.
After dinner he'd still have his glass of wine half full (I'm an optimist you see) and I'd come downstairs and whip out my camera and take some photos and then show him some of my newest card magic tricks. Gramps gets a kick out of the tricks, and I like performing for him because even when I fumble cards or do something completely wrong, I can usually recover before he catches me. It's good practice for me, and he's always astounded and laughs when the trick comes to a conclusion. He's the perfect audience. Gramps usually has a good grasp of how the trick is done, even if he can't explain the execution of it all. And because he's 91 years old, I allow myself to break the cardinal rule of magic and I explain everything to him. He usually forgets how it's done the next time I do it for him anyway.
In pop culture news, "Heroes" returns tonite and everyone in my house is excited about it. If you don't watch the show, or don't love the show, I forgive you, but secretly, you're a loser.
In dog news, Hobbes got a new bone yesterday and he chewed off the end of it last nite, then left it right next to me bed so I actually fell to the ground and nearly sliced my foot open when I woke up this morning. But then when I came downstairs, he got up and came over to me with his tail wagging so much that his whole butt shook him off balance, and he smiled at me and gave me a nice big kiss, so all was forgotten.... He does this often, so I know it's just part of his mischief, but I can't help but fall for it every time. It's so very endearing.
In weather news, it was hot today, windy at the beach, and tomorrow looks like Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs.
Hooray for post number two.
(and Grandpa JoJo)
3 months ago