30 Days, 30 Stories

Day Five: Tex & Grandpa Willie

When I was a kid, I loved hanging out with my grandparents. I didn't get to see them very often since I lived in Pennsylvania and they lived in Virginia. Most times, I only saw them twice a year, which I hated. I used to complain about it to my mom. Why did we have to live in Philadelphia? Why couldn't we live in Virginia too? Or...why couldn't Tex and Grandpa move to Philadelphia and live with us?

I always looked forward to summer vacations in Virginia. It meant I could spend lots of time with my grandparents and I usually planned exactly what I would do to entertain them. Yes, I was convinced I had to keep them entertained all summer--otherwise, of course, they were bored in the countryside, I figured. They needed me to tell them stories and wow them with cartwheels and handstands. Yes, I was one of those silly city kids who thought people who lived in rural areas had nothing to do and were bored--as if they didn't have TV or books or other things to keep them occupied.

I sent them letters from Philadelphia, telling them what I thought we could do all summer, asking them if we could buy a horse, or if we could go to the beach. I'd write stories and plays for them and then...when I was in Smithfield, I would act them out while they sat in the shade of the tree at the top of their driveway. When I thought my stories and plays weren't enough, I amazed them with my gymnastic skills (which were limited to cartwheels, Chinese splits and handstands). I'd climb the tree and try to hang upside down from branches. Yes, I did everything I could think of to pack in as many exciting moments so my grandparents would never think my visit was boring. I thought if I just kept them occupied and entertained, they'd want me around all the time.

One year, a few months before my summer visit, Grandpa Willie had a stroke. By the time I arrived, he was home from the hospital, but he wasn't back on his feet completely. He had to take it easy, so he couldn't take me fishing or crabbing that year. That was the summer my grandfather discovered "The Young & the Restless". Every afternoon, he would sit in the living room and watch the latest adventures of Jill Abbott and Mrs. Chancellor, Victor Newman and Nicki (who was still a stripper then). I didn't know what a stripper was then, but I knew it was not so great--otherwise why was she trying to hide it from everyone?

I knew all about "The Young & the Restless"--I watched it with my cousins in Philly when we had days off from school. I wanted to watch it with my grandparents, but they said we kids had to be outside and get fresh air during the day. Plus, Grandpa Willie always took a nap after "The Young & the Restless" went off--the doctors said he still needed to rest. I didn't want to be outside though. I wanted to hang out with my granddad so I used to talk to him through the window until my grandmother would shoo me away from the house and tell me to go and play.

One day I decided to impress my granddad with how much I knew about the goings-on on "The Young & the Restless". I told him everything I knew--and we compared notes. My granddad was duly impressed. I knew more about the show than he did! When my grandmother told me I should go out and play, Grandpa Willie said I could stay because I was good company. After that, I was allowed to watch the soaps with him until it was time for his nap. While he napped, I'd go across the road and play "Hot Potato, Cold Potato" with Mess, Gump, Fidjie and Stephanie. Or sometimes my cousins were there and we'd construct our own version of the Star Trek Enterprise out of cardboard boxes. We'd play Hide & Seek or 1-2-3 Red Light or search for writing spiders in the bushes and scare one another by swearing we saw our names in the webs. When my granddad woke up from his nap, he and Tex would sit in the shade again and watch the antics of all of us grand kids. Sometimes Tex would ask me if I had some new stories to tell and I would make one up on the spot.

I used to ask my grandparents who was their favorite grandchild, and they'd say they loved us all equally. But one day, many years later, my granddad told me I was his favourite. He said he still had all the letters I used to send him and my grandmother. My grandmother died in 1999. When my grandfather died in 2011, my mom said they found the box of letters in my grandparents' closet. I asked her if she saved them, but she said the box disappeared while they were cleaning out the house.