Grand Wisdom

As a child, I dreaded the idea of visiting my grandmother. I didn’t have any specific grievances with her; I just wanted to be where my things were. When I was with my grandmother, I had three options: I could watch the news, draw a picture, or learn to bake. The only problem was that I didn’t care about world events, I was never a good artist, and I was better at eating than at cooking. Given my childhood interests – or lack thereof – I was much happier playing with my friends or getting lost in the vast world of the Super Mario Brothers. Since my grandmother was not too big on Barbie and she thought that Mario was a boy from school, we didn’t really have much in common.

When my technical childhood ended and I moved into my adolescent years, I had even less reasons to visit my grandmother. At that time, I wanted to do teenager things. Mainly, I wanted to gossip with my friends and check out the totally cute boys who loitered the mall with their pants around their kneecaps. Since my grandmother wasn’t interested in who wore what to school and I could only bring up a boy if I planned to marry him, we were again left with little in common.

Finally, my teenage years ended and I officially became one of the old people that I was too cool to associate with when I was a child. When I reached my ancient 20s, I had the smartest realization that I had ever had up until that point. In all my years of playing video games, hanging out with my friends, and checking out the grungy boys, I managed to learn absolutely nothing. I wanted to eat, but I didn’t know how to cook. I wanted to dress properly, but I didn’t know how to pick out clothes that didn’t come out of the juniors section. I wanted to learn how to make something of myself, but I didn’t even know where to begin. Clearly, I needed help. And wouldn’t you know it, but the person who finally guided me in the right direction was my grandmother who I used to think knew even less than I did.

After I made my way past my childhood ignorance, I realized that my grandmother had all of the answers all along. She might not have been too clear on figures like Mario and Luigi, but she knew all about figures like Chanel and Gucci. She did not know much about boys who used belts to keep their pants from completely falling off, but she did know something about the kind of men who wear belts because it’s the proper thing to do. She may not have known about every personal experience that any of my friends ever had, but she did know something about me. And now that I’ve learned something about myself, I know something, too. I want to be the kind of woman that my grandmother is. I want to be the best that I can be.

The point of this story is not just to say that children are foolish, nor is it to say that my grandmother is wonderful. While both of those things are certainly true, that is not the main point at all. The point is that it’s easy to neglect the things and the people that we love the most. Some of us go through our lives never understanding our true priorities. Whether we are consumed in work, a relationship, or the 7:00 showing of Wheel of Fortune, the fact remains that we are too consumed with the mundane things to see what really matters. I like the idea of work, relationships, and Wheel of Fortune just as much as the next person, but now I am fortunate enough to realize that my real fortune is the family with whom I have been blessed.

So if you think that you’re too busy, or too cool, or too successful to visit with your grandmother, you should really stop and think again. I promise you that she’ll always accept your visit or your phone call because she’s your grandmother and that’s what grandmothers do. The important thing for you to remember is that her acceptance of you is not just her obligation; it’s your privilege. No matter how much or how little time you spend with her, she will always be your grandmother. But if you take the time to look beneath her grandmotherly surface, you just might realize that she’s not just your grandmother; she’s also your closest friend.


Trish is a freelance writer who was born and raised in Lynn, Massachusetts. When Trish is not spending time with Joanne Simopoulos, the best grandmother imaginable, she publishes numerous e-books, articles, and short stories, most of which do not appear in her name because she is foolishly addicted to ghostwriting. If you would like to learn more about Trish and her super secret works that she cannot talk about, you can visit her website at: www.brighterwriter.com