on grandparents

on the way home from the grocery store, i got to thinking. . . and this is the total word-nerd in me. . . why do we call grandparents, grandparents? after all, usually, someone who comes before or above another is "super". . .supervisor, for example. then i started thinking of how funny it would be if we called our grandparents "superparents" instead. it's like they are comic book heroes with extra-special parenting skillz! i had a good giggle, picturing my grandma with a cape with a big capital J on it. yes, i know. big nerd.
but i got around to thinking that i never wrote about my grandparent-filled weekend when we went to south dakota for william's grandma's funeral. i never knew his grandpa on that side; and it'd be a big stretch to say i knew his grandma. but i have gotten to know his mom's parents, and his grandpa makes my heart ache for the ones that i haven't had since childhood.
there is something about grandpas. i want to bake them cookies and make them flirt with me and have them teach me everything there is to know.
william's grandpa's name is ernest, let's start there. perfect grandpa name, right? he's 90 years old, has nine children, and farmed his whole life. i think he still would if he could. but 90 ain't got nothin' on this guy. his mind. . . i actually don't even know any 26-year-olds with a memory like his. he remembers being three years old and sneaking into his dad's sled under the blanket to try to steal a ride into town for candy. that was EIGHTY-SEVEN years ago, in case you need the math. he remembers his dad selling a car in 1925 for $50 and a bad cow. he can tell you all about all about the destruction and aftermath of leaving nine teenager-aged childen home alone on the farm when he finally took his first vacation with his beloved wife, betty. (". . .and the snowmobile, it was up by ted henning's house. . .") he loves baseball and bingo--although he says "that's not gambling, that's recreation!" and he loves his family. he drags out large photo albums and details all their accomplishments and relatives and goings-on over the years in his fargo-like accent (tinged with a kind of stoutness that must be the polish he can also speak). he's a master of the wink. he loves the ladies. the love that he has for his wife (and she has for him) brings tears to my eyes. they have been married for sixty-something years (i hope that's right) and it's like they're still seeing each other for the first time. they live each day trying to outdo each other in acts of kindness. it's the kind of marriage that i think everyone dreams of, once they realize that they too will get old, and hopefully they will still be with that person they fell in love with before they got wrinkles and arthritis, when they still danced on friday nights.
betty tells me, "you know, ernest tells me every day that he loves me. and sometimes he forgets if he said it or not, so he'll ask, 'did i tell you i loved you yet today? well, i love you.' " her eyes twinkle when she tells me this. "i guess that's why he had nine kids."
we had a good laugh over that. but i made this little wish that william and i could still be that in love that far down the road.
it's amazing, the marks that our grandparents leave on our hearts and minds, the ghosty way that i'm still tethered to mine after so many years of them being gone. i can remember sitting at my grandma jeanne's kitchen table with grandpa bill, before we knew he was sick, and him singing 'the three little kittens' to me. and me carrying on, 'no, grandpa, no! not again!' because he knew it drove me crazy. he loved to drive kids crazy. i can remember him showing me the cookie jar and telling me that cookies were not worth eating if they weren't double-stuf oreos. i can remember him taking me to the park with my cousins, and opening up the trunk of his car, and inside it, a cooler. filled with pop. . . grape, orange, you name it. and telling me, "you can have as much of this as you want today." it was like we'd struck gold. he also bought me pink minnetonka moccasins and a care bears necklace for christmas. he really seemed to know a girl's heart.
my other grandpa was very different from my grandpa bill, from what i recall. he was quieter, a bit gentler. he loved golf. he once had a heart attack on the green. . . but finished his game before going to the hospital. (so i heard once). he loved mountain dew and doublemint gum, which he kept on a shelf above his desk. he taped shows for me off the disney channel. . .he came to regret that. annie and the secret of nimh. . . required watching every time i visited. he had a beautiful little rose garden in his backyard, which he meticulously maintained. i can remember climbing the apple tree, he putzing around in the yard. i can remember what his giggle sounded like, and that he always was jingling the change in his pocket. i loved going to their house, there was something so safe and warm there, and like there was so much to get my hands into. i don't remember my grandpas telling me many stories about growing up or any of those things, yet i still feel like i carry them around with me.
and if i'm marrying into this family, then they are kind of my grandparents too, right? i'm going to soak up as much of it as i can. tell me your stories, so that i know what it was like. and how i can live a life as decently, as love-filled, as miraculously, as you have yours.

breathe in, breathe out, breathe in...

sorry for the lack of posting around these here parts. i have been under enormous pressure at work and working late hours.
not many developements on the wedding-planning front, but we did celebrate william's grandfather's 90th birthday this weekend in south dakota. he is one of the cutest men alive. and with the sharpest memory ever. he weas a farmer up until just a few years ago, it seems, and he showed me photos from his earliest days--literally--to his anniversaries to his birthdays, complete with details. but possibly one of the most important things i took from the weekend was another happy, long marriage. these two are so cute. they still hold hands and talk sweet to each other. betty, the grandma, wrote him a sweet little essay about how she still thinks of him as 28 years old, that a wink from him made her day, all the sacrifices he made for her and how few she felt she made for him. they told funny stories of raising nine children on a farm--and throughout all the stories--how much laughter and joy they found. betty has sixty-two years of calendars set aside--each day she wrote what the weather was like, how many fish they caught, or some other fact of the day. all that history. i could listen to them talk for hours.
we also celebrated the impending birth of a new baby in october, with william's sister's baby shower. it was a surprise, and it was pretty clear she had no idea that it was coming. so that was fun. the next day, she asked william and i to be the godparents for the baby. how sweet. we are honored, of course. we can't wait for him to show up! yes, it's a boy.
with that, i must run. lots to do. just wanted to check in.