It's always a lot bit worse in the Irish. . .

My grandmother is an incredible woman. If you know me in real life than I'm sure you've heard a few stories even. She definitely has created legacy and a wealth of stories for herself that is sometimes hard to believe.

Now, these are just some recollections that I remember and they are far from all that should be said of her.  That'd probably be a whole other blog.  Besides this blog is about me.

My grandmother is first off fresh of the boat from Scotland, in fact she did a lot of her schooling there and I guess her mother we take here back and forth quite a bit.  That isn't too crazy in and of itself but it's part of a funny story after she met my grandfather and in several letters was trying to explain him to her parents.  See my grandfather's name was Benjamin and so her parents thought he was Jewish since only Jewish people named their children Benjamin. So my grandmother explained that he wasn't Jewish and that he was from Oklahoma. Well, her parents took out a map and saw that that was Indian territory so they thought he was an Indian. Well, that was corrected and my grandmother informed them that he was Irish. Well! Her mother replied (and this part of the story was salways in a thick Scottish accent so you'll just have to go with me) "there's good and bad in envy one, but it's always a lot bit worse in the Irish!"

That story just starts it all. She would tell me about how they rode elephant back thru the jungle with a veterinarian to perform surgery on another elephant and how halfway thru the trip they took off their shoes as to not scare away the wild tigers they'd baited. Also that to get thru the elephants skin for the surgery how they had to use saws.  "It was such a great experience you'd really have to do it if you have the opportunity."

She was also one of the first women into Cambodia after the genocide anyhow they were made to take tours of schools and hospitals turned into torture chambers.  That was also after her time in the Red Cross where she worked with Bob (Bob Hope) as an emcee. That's where she actually met my grandfather. That story was usually coupled with some jitterbug choreography and a rendition of "Let Me Entertain You".  In the den was always a map with tacks of all the places where her and my grandfather lived in their fifty odd moves.  All continents covered by the way except Antarctica which doesn't have too many people to minister to. One of those places being Saudia Arabia. That's where they would have to avoid people of fridays else they'd be invited to the public executions.

Again, these are just the stories I remember off the top of my head.  My grandmother is an incredible person.  Full of strength, conviction, ideals, so many positive characteristics.  And just another person in my ridiculous family.  If I achieve or experience a fraction of what she has in her life I will consider myself lucky and satisfied. I'm grateful to have such a person to model myself after.

The next part is the hard part.  My grandma's health has started to decline.  After having this strong person for the last quarter of a century of my life to look up to its hard to see her to made human. To be made mortal.  She's a hero of mine.  My whole perspective has been made extremely finite. I'm not sure what point I'm trying to make.  That this incredible woman's experiences may only be recoded in this blog? That besides her adventures she invested in four sons, fourteen grandchildren and I think at this point three great grandchildren (a cousin moved to Texas ,not my fault).  If that's what we're counting my legacy tally is: one dog. Her and some highly loved friends. Reflecting on my grandmother makes me dwell or mortality... Ugh.

Go back and read a funny post.

Let Me Entertain You