Innuendo

Every year, my grandparents spent part of their summer at a lovely but formal resort in the Poconos. It was a beautiful old lodge, with indoor and outdoor pools, a lake with swimming, fishing, and boating, a golf course and putting green, tennis and shuffleboard courts, and my grandfather’s favorite, lawn bowling. Think Dirty Dancing for WASPs.

Every Saturday night there was live music and dancing. The band played the exact same songs in the exact same order, year after year. After Year. My grandfather would use his watch to announce the title of the next song, “Starting in 10, 9, 8…” He was amazingly and alarmingly accurate. I know all this because my grandparents kindly hosted family and friends to come visit them while they were there, so I went every summer.

My sister and I are 7 1/2 years apart in age. When she was little, I was old enough to keep her alive in a pinch, but not really old enough to properly babysit. One year when I was about 10, the dance was too late for us, so my mom decided that my sister and I could stay up in our room alone, but she came up to check on us repeatedly throughout the course of the evening. In order to keep her company, and to say hi to us since we weren't even considering going to bed on time, someone different would go up with my mom every time. After all, it’s not like they’d miss a song they hadn’t heard before.

First, my uncle came up. Then my grandfather. Then my other uncle. After it was my dad’s turn, as he was coming back down, he suddenly wondered how it looked to the bellhops who sat across from the elevator, seeing Mom go up with a different man every 20 – 30 minutes. As the elevator doors opened, he handed my mom a $20 bill and said “Thank you so much. I certainly hope you’ll be here again the next time I am!” and walked off. She still doesn’t think that’s funny.