BOOKCARVING

GRAMMY:  Barbara!  What the hell did your son do?

ME:  What is it now, Grammy?

GRAMMY:  I don’t know what the hell it is now, but it was my Dickens collection.

ME:  He carved a book?

GRAMMY:  He carved a whole set of books.  My Dickens collection!

ME:  It looks like a bonsai tree.

GRAMMY:  Banzei is a yell, not a tree, Barbara.  It’s like Geronimo.

ME:  What?  Geronimo was a Native American.

GRAMMY:  I know that, dimbulb, and I’ll bet he never jumped out of an airplane, but it’s what people yell when they jump out of airplanes. And when they make a mad dash charge at you, they yell banzai!  Haven’t you ever seen a movie?

ME:  That’s a totally different word, Grammy.  It’s spelled . . . .

GRAMMY:  I don’t care how you spell the damn thing.  I want my Dickens back!

ME:  You know, Grammy, I’ll bet we could sell that.  It’s that good.

GRAMMY:  Chopped up books?

ME:  It’s a piece of art, Grammy.  I think Julius is an artistic genius.

GRAMMY:  Yeah.  Only a genius would cut up a collection of first edition Dickens.  (sigh)  It’s like talking to the damn wall.

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EVOLUTION

GRAMMY:  Where are you off to?

ME:  PTA meeting.  It’s our yearly debate over Darwin.  Evolution or no evolution.

GRAMMY:  And let me guess.  You’re on the evolution side?

ME:  Of course.  All you have to do is look around you.  It’s pretty obvious.

GRAMMY:  And you don’t suppose that’s God twisting and tweaking, making things better?

ME:  Grammy, how can you believe that?

GRAMMY:  Because it makes more sense than your damn big bang theory.  Science says you can’t make something from nothing. So if we believe that, then where did that first bit of matter come from, huh? That bit that supposedly started it all?  I’ll tell you where it came from.  It came from God.

ME:  Sorry, Grammy. I’m not getting into this now.

GRAMMY:  Because you know you’re wrong.

ME:  No.  Because I have to deal with the people at school who think like you do.

GRAMMY:  Well, go ahead.  Just keep in mind what happened the last time you said there was no God.

ME:  What?

GRAMMY:  This time, you don’t have a car to crush, Barbara.  This time, it just might be you.

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PERSPECTIVE

GRAMMY:  Ah, there’s nothing like New England in the winter.  Isn’t that a beautiful sight?  There’s nothing prettier than new-fallen snow.

ME:  What?

GRAMMY:  What do you mean ‘what?’  I said there’s nothing like New England in the winter.  You don’t have to be a rocket scientist to understand that.

ME:  But you’ve always hated winter.  I remember growing up, all you ever did was complain about the cold and snow and ice.

GRAMMY:  Well, who wouldn’t complain?  Do you know how many damn hours I spent shoveling the crap?  I’ll bet I’ve lifted at least twenty tons of snow in my lifetime.  And how many times did I nearly kill myself driving in the slush and ice just to make it to that lousy minimum wage job I had?  And let’s not forget all the hours I spent dragging you around on that sled of yours.

ME:  Well, that’s my point, Grammy.  You’ve always hated winter, now you’re sitting here admiring its beauty?

GRAMMY:  Yep.  Because now I don’t have to do any of that crap.  Now I get to look out and enjoy it.  It’s all about perspective, Barbara.  It’s all about perspective.

Photo Charlie H.

MERMAIDS

GRAMMY:  So, this is your room, huh?

JULIUS:  Uh, huh.

GRAMMY:  Manly.  I guess you like mermaids.

JULIUS:  Uh, huh.  Did you know mermaids can sing underwater?

GRAMMY:  Oh, yeah?  What do they sing?

JULIUS:  They sing songs for sailors.  But they don’t let the sailors see them.

GRAMMY:  And do they sell sea shells by the sea shore?

JULIUS:  What?

GRAMMY:  Nothing.  Why don’t they let the sailors see them?  You’d think they’d like a little company now and then.

JULIUS:  They don’t want anyone to know they’re there, Grammy.

GRAMMY:  Then why the hell do they sing at all?

JULIUS:  To lure the sailors near the rocks.  So they’ll crash and sink to the bottom of the sea.

GRAMMY:  Ha!  Sadistic little suckers, aren’t they.

JULIUS:  What’s sa . . . sadistic?

GRAMMY:  Oh, it just means they like to be mean for fun.

JULIUS:  Mermaids aren’t mean, Grammy.  They just make the sailors crash so they won’t catch dolphins in their tuna nets.  I’m going to be a mermaid when I grow up.

GRAMMY:  Lord.  Another bleeding-heart liberal is born.

Photo Maura Wolfson-Foster

ESTATE PLANNING

GRAMMY:  What the hell are they doing out there?

ME:  I don’t know.  Alfie said it was something Japanese.

GRAMMY:  Lord, I thought the boy would toughen up with Typhus around.  Instead, he’s making Typhus as weird as he is.  And why the hell is Alfie out there with them?

ME:  They’re creative types, Grammy.  You have to figure things like this will happen when they get together.

GRAMMY:  I don’t have to figure anything but who I’m leaving my money to.  And, let me tell you, none of you are too high on my list right now.

ME:  What?

GRAMMY:  You heard me.  I spent sixty-five years busting my butt, and if I live to be 120, I’ll still never spend everything I have.  You think I want to leave all that to Moe, Larry and Curly out there, so they can spend their lives playing dress-up?

ME:  Well, actually, I’d think you’d want to leave it to me.

GRAMMY:  Oh right.  So you can give it to that lazy ex of yours?  Think again.  (sigh)   Now I know why people leave their fortunes to their pets.

Photo: Kozaburo Tamamura

JOB COUNSELING

GRAMMY:  What’s wrong, Typhus?  That medal not shiny enough for you?

TYPHUS:  They only gave it to me because you made a fuss.

GRAMMY:  Hey, you deserved it.  You saved a hundred year-old woman from drowning in her own apartment.

TYPHUS:  You know, Grammy, I been thinkin’.

GRAMMY:  About what.

TYPHUS:  About me.  How I been wastin’ my life.  I’m tired of bein’ a low-life.  I want to be somebody.

GRAMMY:  So who do you want to be?

ME:  I don’t know.  A bigshot.

GRAMMY:  Well, what do you already know how to do?

TYPHUS:  I can draw.

GRAMMY:  Forget drawing.  Artists only become famous after they die.  You don’t want to wait that long.

TYPHUS:  But that’s all I know how to do.

GRAMMY:   Right.  Think, boy!  What do you do best?

TYPHUS:  Lie, cheat and steal, but those won’t get me anywhere.

GRAMMY:  Of course they will.  Haven’t you heard of politics? Y ou get to lie, cheat and steal you way to the top.  And you’ll get a huge salary for doing it.

TYPHUS:  (brightening)  Right!  I didn’t even think of that.

GRAMMY:  Not a problem.  Thinking isn’t one of the qualifications.

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WATER PROBLEM

ME:  Oh my God!  What happened, Grammy?

GRAMMY:  That damn idiot upstairs left his water running again.  He leaves it on for the cat whenever he goes away.

ME:  Did you call the landlord?

GRAMMY:  What the hell for?  He hasn't shown his face around here in fifty-two years.

ME:  Well, someone has to get up there and shut the water off before the whole ceiling caves in.  I’ll call the Fire Department.

GRAMMY:  Don’t bother.  Typhus is handling it.

ME:  Typhus?  What can he do?

GRAMMY:  He’s a juvenile delinquent, Barbara.  He’s been breaking and entering since he was twelve.

ME:  So you sent him off to commit a crime?

GRAMMY:  He was here, and it’s what he does.

ME:  Grammy, he could go to jail!

GRAMMY:  Jail, schmail.  He’s doing what the damn Fire Department would do, except he's doing it for free and he isn't destroying any property.  If you ask me, he’s doing the city a service by saving our tax dollars.  Now shut up and take this umbrella.

ME:  Why?

GRAMMY:  Typhus is a second story man.  He said it’ll take him at least fifteen minutes to shimmy up the drain pipe.

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VACATION PHOTOS

GRAMMY:  So, you never said how your vacation went.  Did you and art boy have a good time?

ME:  We did, Grammy.  We spent some time on the beach.

We did some rock climbing.  Alfie was horrible at it, but at least he tried.

We also got in some deep sea fishing.  Alfie caught a marlin, and Grammy, you wouldn’t believe the size of that thing.

Then we did some sight seeing and spent some time with the locals.












And the night life, Grammy?  You should have seen those clubs.  Me an Alfie actually learned to break dance.

GRAMMY:  What about the casinos?

ME:  What about them?

GRAMMY:  You were in the Bahamas, Barbara.  Are you telling me you didn’t hit one casino?

ME:  I was in the Bahamas, Grammy.  If I want to gamble, I’ll go down to Green’s.

GRAMMY:  Why the hell would you go there?

ME:  Come on, Grammy.  Everyone knows he has a mini casino in his back room.  The produce market is just a front.

GRAMMY:  Really?

ME:  Really.

GRAMMY:  Well, the pictures were nice.  Now I think I'll go buy me some apples.

Photo:  Tom Robinson Photography
Stormtroopers

OLD WOMAN RANTING

ME:  Grammy, why are you sitting here in the dark?

GRAMMY:  I’m depressed.

ME:  Why?  What happened?

GRAMMY:  Oh, it’s this whole damn save the planet thing.

ME:  (sigh)  It is kind of depressing, what with all the talk of global warming and carbon dioxide emissions and dirty fossil fuels.

GRAMMY:  Oh, shut up.  That’s exactly what I’m talking about.  I’m tired of all the moaning and groaning.

ME:  But Global warming is real, Grammy.  It’s something we have to think about.

GRAMMY:  Why?  How the hell are we gonna save the damn planet when we can’t even save ourselves?  We’re still killing each other for stupid reasons, we don’t take care of our sick and homeless, our damn representatives are too busy fighting each other to do anything good for the people they represent, and we’re gonna save the damn planet?  The Earth’s fine.  It’s been here over four billion years.  It survived asteroid blasts, glaciation, volcanic eruptions, you name it, and it’s still here.  It’s not going anywhere.

ME:  (sigh)  I never looked at it like that.  I guess if anyone’s in trouble, it’s us.  Not the planet.

GRAMMY:  Now you know why I’m so depressed.  We're screwed.

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PERSONAL GROWTH

ME:  Oh no.

GRAMMY:  What?

ME:  A deer is eating the nose off Julius’ snowman.  And here he comes, running straight for the door.

GRAMMY:  I don’t hear him screaming like he usually does.

ME:  Well, Typhus is out there with him.  Poor little thing, he's probably holding it all inside.  But the minute he gets through the door . . . .

GRAMMY:  I’ll go get my earplugs.

ME:  Wait a minute, Grammy.  He’s going back.

GRAMMY:  You’re kidding me.

ME:  No.  He’s going back.  And he has something in his hand.

GRAMMY:  Move over.  Let me see.

ME:  Easy, Grammy.  You almost knocked me down.

GRAMMY:  Oh, stop your whining.  No wonder the boy gets upset so easily.  Must get it from you.

ME:  What’s Typhus giving him?

GRAMMY:  Damned if I know.  Looks like a chunk of ice.  And he’s putting it in . . . well, I’ll be . . . .

ME:  What, Grammy?  What’s he do . . .  Oh my goodness!

THUNK!

GRAMMY:  Unbelievable.  The boy’s used that slingshot exactly twice and he’s hit his mark each time.

ME:  But the deer . . . it’s . . . .

GRAMMY:  Venison.  You know, with an aim like that, we may never have to buy meat again.

Photo:  Fresh99

SURPRISE!

GRAMMY:  The ocean in the dead of winter.  Care to tell me why we’re here?

ME:  Jules asked me to meet him here.

GRAMMY:  Why?

ME:  He said he had something important to tell me.

GRAMMY:  Here?  Whatever happened to the local coffee shop?

ME:  He proposed to me here, Grammy.  While we watched the sunrise.

GRAMMY:  Well, I don’t see a car anywhere.

ME:  Jules doesn’t have a car.  He refuses to get one until they’re environmentally friendly.

GRAMMY:  So how’d he get out here, then?

ME:  Taxi.  It’s how he gets everywhere.

GRAMMY:  Oh, right.  I forgot how Green taxis are.

ME:  He sounded strange on the phone.  You don’t suppose he might have . . . you know . . . after seeing me with Alfie?

GRAMMY:  We can only hope.

ME:  Grammy!

JULES:  Good afternoon ladies!

ME:  Jules!  And who’s your friend?

JULES:  Barbara, this is Bambi.  I’ve just proposed and she said yes.  Now, how about a lift home?

ME:  A lift?  (Shoves him into ocean)

JULES:  Hey!  What the . . . .

ME:  Let’s go, Grammy.

GRAMMY:  You know he’s going to freeze to death in this weather.

ME:  We can only hope.

GRAMMY:  (smiling)  Now, that's my girl.

Photo:   Lars Jensen

FIREWORKS

ME:  (waking)  Ooh, Grammy, what am I doing here?  What time is it?

GRAMMY:  Three in the afternoon.

ME:  Oh, God.

GRAMMY:  That’s what happens when you drink all night.  Alfie dropped you off.  Seems you never told him where you actually live.

ME:  I ‘m sorry, Grammy.

GRAMMY:  Not as sorry as I am.  Julius slept in my bed, you took the couch, I’ve been up all damn night watching that Ryan Seacrest fella, who’ll never be a Dick Clark, I can tell you that, and that boyfriend of yours has been setting off fireworks ever since.

 ME: Fireworks?

GRAMMY:  Can’t you hear them?  I’m surprised nobody’s called the cops yet.  Must have been one hell of a night.

ME:  I don’t know.  I can’t remember anything.

GRAMMY:  Well now, that’s just sad.  Might have had the time of your life, and you don’t even remember it.

ME:  Well, it could have been awful, too.

GRAMMY:  Right.  He’s shooting of fireworks because the night sucked.  You know, Barbara, you really shouldn’t drink.  It makes you dumber than normal.

ME:  Grammy!  That isn’t very nice.

GRAMMY:  Oh well.  Have a shot of whisky and you’ll forget I ever said it.

Photo: Big Huge Labs