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man this sure is a lighthearted entry
2001-10-19-7:57 a.m.
I went to visit my great grandmother yesterday. Somehow doing this makes me feel good and bad at the same time. Good to visit, but bad because I don't visit enough. She's so happy that I come by I hate to leave, which saddens me. So I'll be stopping by more often now. She was born in 1918, so she's in her 80's, and she was married to my great grandfather for 61 years, before he died a few years ago. She is still healthy enough, and she's still completely sharp, although forgetfull at times. I think old people are great, because grandparents and great grandparents (at least those that I've known) have no love of bullshit anymore. They know absolutely what is important and what isn't. Anyway she knows what the score is, no sheltering her so she doesn't worry, and she's not out of the times either, still living in the 1950s or whatever. I told her about my trip to NYC though and to 46th Street Swing, she said she'd have loved to see a club like that. I remember her telling me about drinking Sloe Gin as a kid and going to speak-easy's (drinking clubs during prohibition). It's neat to see old people tell as story and you can see them stare off, literally looking back over the years, and smiling as they remember the things that happened. Ever been at a family picnic, and your aunt is yelling at her kid to stop playing with the water hose, or to quit eating so much cake or something? Your grandmother will always say "Oh let them have fun, they're only kids, you were a kid one day too." That's why a lot of times grandparents are less strict than the parents are. Of course my mom was never strict anyway. Anyway I had to meet my dad and his girlfriend for dinner and to pick up my little brother, so I couldn't stay long, but I resolved to visit her once a week from now on. She helped to raise me as a kid, and when I was younger lived right next door to us, so it will pain me greatly to see her go. She said she wants me to be her pall-bearer at her funeral. I said I don't want to talk about it she's not even ill, she has years left. But she told me she'd have no problem dying tomorrow, all her affairs were in order and she'd lived a full life with no regrets. I think thats really something to strive for, being able to look back at your life and feel like you did what you wanted, the way you wanted, and having no fear of death. I don't deal with death well. My own doesn't bother me as much as the death of someone close to me, that scares me a lot more. Oddly enough Jerry and I had a conversation about death and eternity and all that jazz later on in the night at his house. We didn't get a chance to finish it, but then again do you ever really finish a conversation like that? I'd explain it more specifically, but this entry is getting a little long and I don't want to give it a half ass explanation, so I'll give it another entry, maybe later today. I want to bitch about the beret-wearing-philosophy-spouting, wannabe politico-malcontents at every fucking starbucks in my next entry. Can you smell the distaste there? -- Ronnie
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