"I'm driving with you to New Mexico," said Grandma.
"I can drive by myself," I reassured her. "I drove back to Sioux Falls once with out-of-date perscription glasses."
"You're not going by yourself."
And that was it. Apparently I wasn't going by myself. She had already planned her course of action before I had the opportunity to turn her down. We were going to take Grandpa Fred to Salt Lake so he could visit his daughter (my step-aunt), and we were going to stay there a night. Monday night we would be to Moab, Utah. The next day we'd be in Rehoboth. Grandma would stay with me that night and catch a Greyhound to Phoenix to visit friends the next morning.
This morning before I sent her off, I said, "If he comes from the back, headbutt him. That'll break his nose. Then stomp on his foot with your heal. That should do it." Self defense for a 67-year-old woman is very important. She simply nodded her head and patted my shoulder.
"There'll be no problem. You know I sleep with one eye open."
"I know."
And with that she hugged me and kissed my cheek, leaving bright red lipstick smudged across my freckles. "I love you," she said.
"I love you too, Grandma."
Watching Grandma board the bus, I breathed a sigh of relief. Kearsen and I had breathed the same sigh of relief when Grandma left after a two-week stay in Sious Falls. She was always up at seven, dressed, primmed, awake, and ready to go. When Grandma left, Kearsen and I collapsed on her couch, exhausted. But there she went, the woman who took her twelve-year-old granddaughter white water rafting in Yellowstone the summer after Grandpa died. The same woman who put up all her Christmas lights this Christmas because, by gum, she could still do it. The woman who fed thirty people throughout this Christmas vacation. She is the most independant woman I know. So the past three days, Grandma toted me along through the mountains and canyon lands of Montana, Utah, and New Mexico (and a little bit of Arizona) reminding me of life's responsibilities a little at a time.
Here's what I learned:
1. Grandma loves Johnny Cash. Of the CDs I own, I own about two Christian praise and worship CDs, and about four CDs with absolutely no swearing. I played and replayed those ones, something like WOW Worship and the Roby Family hymns, but there she sat, somewhat contented. The last CD in my case was this $5 Johnny Cash top hits from Wal Mart. Couldn't hurt, I thought. I popped it in and at the first note of Mr. Cash's baratone voice, Grandma said, "Hoh! Now this is what I like!" She knew every word. She knew every note. She tapped her fingers and bounced her head from side to side.
2. Grandma will listen to rap if it means spending time with her grandchildren. "Why is this guy wanting to skip stones?" "Just feel the beat, Grandma." "He's not gonna let what go? He was talking too fast." "Nothing, Grandma. The words don't matter." "Hmph."
3. Utah is a Mormon state. Grandma detests what they believe. "Look at those dirty old cold temples. That statue! Look at that statue. Dumb idols, they worship."
4. I've known this before, but my great great grandpa was a Mormon polygamist. He had four wives and two of them were sisters. They each had eight or more kids. He separated with one of his wives but still sent money to her and the kids. Ugh, 32 kids (at least!). Anyway, I'm reading this book The New York Regional Mormon Singles Dance: A memoior by Elna Baker. Our ideas on life are completely different, but she's wickedly funny, and I'm probably related to her. As Grandma and I were driving I thought about Mormanism a lot and what justifies their belief system. In Moab I looked in the hotel drawyer and saw the Book of Mormon. I opened it and began reading and thought, Who are these people? and other thoughts like, Who is this God they believe in? and Do they really believe they can be Gods someday? But I thought of all this because my Grandpa Boman (Grandma's first husband) grew up in the Mormon tradition, and he said he felt deceived; his young adult life was filled with regurgitation. Not all that different from some of Christianity. We regurgitate answers and we act the part of a stewardly Christian without truly living the part, but the underlying understanding of God is worlds apart. Is it about us, or is it about God? Anyway, this is something I'm thinking through, and I want to know all I can.
5. I like to be quiet until I like to talk. Grandma likes to talk until she likes to be quiet. Interesting mix.
6. The canyon lands of Utah look like those mirage books you get from Scholastic book orders. You can't really tell how deep they go or where they stop, and defining their shape is useless.
7. Novel ideas in naming historic landmarks are probably not so novel. Observe exhibit A:
Observed: Big, beached whale-looking boulder
Me: "Look Grandma, that boulder looks like a big beached whale!"
Grandma: "Wow, it really does!"
Sign: Whale Rock
Me: [Frown]
Grandma: [Laughs]
8. Grandma likes to feed people, namely her granddaughter.
9. Grandma and I are both stubborn. No examples necessary.
10. New Mexico can have snow, too. Good thing I didn't only pack shorts and T-shirts. We were ready to get out of the car and stretch our arms in the nice, warm air, but all we did was shivver. Right now I'm cold, but if you live in Montana or South Dakota you're probably colder :)
Grandma's crazy, but so am I. I have a lot to learn, but so does she. Grandma's stubborn and frustrates me and my pride sometimes, but I do the same. But we had a safe trip and a good time all around. I love her very much.
I'm ready to be by myself, doing my own thing.
I guess I haven't looked in a mirror yet today. I should go rub that lipstick off for good.
Red lipstick kisses to you all,
Laurissa
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