Our family loves to tell stories. They are the ties that bind us from one generation to another. Some are funny. Others sad or insightful. We hope you enjoy these and we encourage you to share your stories about Grandmommy too so we can add them here.
So…don’t be shy, just send any you’d like to share to info@wsbydesign.com We look forward to hearing from you!
It happened on the 4th fairway. Bob’s golf partner was setting up for her second shot, using a 3-wood. Bob, forever the coach, was instructing his partner on remembering the fundamentals. Bob then took a step back, and his partner rushed into a gigantic backswing. The 3-wood then hit 2 objects: The first was Bob’s head and the second was the ball. It was actually a great shot, travelling high and long toward the 4th green. Bob never saw it, as he was sprawled on the grass, temporarily unconscious, with visions of birdies circling his head. His partner, oblivious to the man on the ground or the blood on her club, was admiring her shot and asking Bob if he saw how fantastic it was. Bob mumbled some barely coherent complaint about a headache. His partner looked down and said, “What are you doing down there? Did you see my shot?” Bob’s partner? Why, Mom, of course.
As Mom and her friends in Assisted Living at Seacrest became increasingly compromised in their ability to hear, communication became more challenging. Following is a conversation between Mom and her 100-year old friend Tessie at their dining table.
Tessie: Sylvia, would you like me to butter your roll?
Mom: I would love to bowl, but where’s the bowling alley?
Tessie: I don’t know.
Mom: Well, I hope they have buttered rolls there…I can’t butter this thing. Do you know if there’s bingo tonight?
Tessie: Yes, I heard about that dingo who ate the toddler in Australia.
Mom: Someone ate a toddler? I wonder if they had butter.
Tessie: I like your hair. Did Georgia do it for you?
Mom: Why would I go to Georgia when I can have it done right here? Oh, are you going to finish those fries?
Tessie: Flies? I haven’t noticed any, but I carry a fly swatter with me just in case.
Mom: Can I use your back scratcher?
Tessie: That’s a fly swatter.
Mom: Why would I want a fly swatter if my back itches?
Tessie: Well, how could I kill flies with a back scratcher?
Mom: I want ice cream…maybe a big bowl.
Tessie: A big roll? I told you I would butter one for you.
Mom: Don’t talk to me anymore.
While Mom was at Seacrest, a staff member timidly stood in front of a group of residents with a violin in her hand. She announced that, although she wasn’t very good at playing her instrument, she wanted to entertain everyone. She began to play. It was terrific – for a 5-year old beginner with absolutely no innate talent. But most in the captive audience seemed to be enjoying the ‘concert’. I leaned over to Mom and said, “You like the violin, right Mom?” Mom gave me one of her patented ‘are you nuts?’ looks and loudly replied, “I USED TO.”
