Kicking it with Gramma
I just had this weird flashback of walking along the canal locks of Georgetown with my Grandma when I was maybe 11 or 12 in the summertime eating icecream. It was really bizarre and I have no idea what spawned me to think about it but then I kept reminiscing about the weekends I used to spend with her and due to the damn gloomy weather, it's made me somewhat somber today.
I remember being in my pre-teens when my mom would drop me off at the metro in MD to ride on into DC and get off at the Tenleytown stop (all by myself!) and ride the escalator that seemed like it was a mile high to daylight. Then I'd sit down at the curb of what used to be the Hechingers (which is now a crappy-ass Best Buy no less) to strap on my Rollerblades and continue my 10 or so block journey to grammas apt. building in front of the Cathedral; the understated yet regal Chancery.
Rolling past AU and checking out all of the girls (ew, cooties) playing field hockey, going past the five and dime store (which was called G.C. Murphy's in real life but Gramma insisted it was just the "five and dime") and finally passing the Zebra Room and a block later I was in front of the Chancery. I'd sit on the first step, de-strap and walk on up to the security door and ring the buzzer. Gramma was usually working the desk and switchboard. Yes, it was a real-deal oldschool switchboard. The single RCA-jack cable into the board with a bazillion lil' holes kind of deal. Oldschool.
She'd give me the mail to bring up to her apt and unload and then come back down so we could get the weekends groceries together and hopefully let me go to Sullivans to pick up a toy for the weekend. Sullivans is still there thank god and is sadly the only remaining landmark of my DC childhood still on Wisconsin Ave. Sure, Giant is still there but now it's bigger and brighter and the isles are wider than a single shopping cart. Murphys is gone and still empty too. But Sullivans is still there thank god. Sullivans is an oldschool toystore slash art supply place which hasn't sold out to bigger chains yet. It's maybe two master bedrooms big and filled with intelligent toys instead of the crap you see in most stores today.
I'd usually pick up a model or Lego set and we'd go the counter to check out. Gramma would pull out a $20 from her tiny change purse (she always, ALWAYS had cash which I thought was awesome) and we were on our way. I didn't really think of it until later in life but seeing how she wasn't really on a disposible source of income, I wonder just how much cash she dropped on me during those weekends and how that affected her weekly routines after I had gone...
Moving on from the toy store, we walked over to Giant and picked up the usual. The tiny 6 oz. frozen Minute Maid concentrate cylinders of tangerine juice (if any of you readers can find these still, I'll pay it's weight in gold to you to ship one to me), some coke for my brown cows (coke and vanilla ice cream duh) and some chicken nuggets for dinner. I'd try to grab the bags from her but she always insisted on carrying them. And she would always ask for paper bags inside plastic bags. I never knew why but I miss those paper bags nowadays. I remember looking at her frail arms. Almost see through at times. Bony at parts and strong in others. She walked faster than me through her entire life and was the one always telling me to keep up when I couldn't walk anymore and needed a break.
We'd walk on over to the Zebra Room (which was turned into the "Zebra Lounge" years later which is now a vacant building for christ's sake) to grab a bite to eat. I'd usually order the four-slice personal pepperoni pizza and she would order the club sandwich. The Zebra Room was this tiny hole in the wall pizza joint with white and black tile floors. The booths were black vinyl and most all of the staff were college AU gals. The jukebox always played awesome new-wave/post punk music which I attribute my love for said genre to this day. Again, grammy would drop some cash down after we were done eating and we were on our way back to the pad.
It would be close to 7ish by now so while I started on my toy project, she would draw a bath for me. Once everything was ready I had to go wash up and just relax in the awesome bathtub of hers. It wasn't so much as a grand tub of any sort mind you. It was just one of those old tubs from any average apartment building built in the 30's. All black and white tile. Oldschool metal fixtures et al. I remember laying all the way down and looking up underwater at the bubbles on the surface and trying to see how long I could hold my breath. It was the best bathtub in the entire universe and was the only bathtub I ever took a bath in. I think it's the last one I used to this day.
After the bath I'd come out in my PJ's and sit at the kitchen table with Gramma. She'd be playing solitaire and I'd continue creating some sort of toy. We'd watch Jeopardy on her 13" color tv which still had the channel knob that went up to 13. ABC wouldn't come in too great "because of the damn Russian embassy and their damn satellite's screwing up the reception." I had no idea what she was talking about at the time but to this day I still have some odd deep-seeded disdain towards the Russian embassy when I drive past it.
Around 9 we'd retire to the bedroom. Gramma had two twins. Mine was nearest the window. She'd usually get a shopping bag full of the weekly enquirer rags from another tenant which she liked to read and laugh at while I continued to be entertained by the TV in the corner. Usually most of the time I'd sit up in bed under the blankets with my knees up creating some sort of blanket mountain of sorts. The creases and folds made an awesome downhill race track which I sent all of my fearless Matchbox cars down. I remember doing this for damn near an hour some nights making new tracks with the folds and seeing which ones were faster to the bottom.
When it was time to go to bed, she usually kept the windows open which created my most favorite memory of my stays with her. The city traffic that passed were like ocean waves to me. The ambulances and fire trucks passing by. The whhhrr's of the city buses airbrakes stopping at the stop in front of the apt. building. All of the angry drivers honking. Bliss.
I miss going there. She used to tell me that I would stop coming over when I got older. After getting a drivers license or discovering girls or realizing that staying with grandma wasn't cool anymore. I never believed her until it really was the truth. When hanging out with friends was more important than club sandwiches. One time when I was 16 I think I asked to come over and the excitement in her voice was all I needed to tell me it was a good idea to call. Just knowing that there was this strong old woman who was as pleased as punch just to have me over for company made me happy. I did go visit but this time I drove. We went through all of the usual routines and it was as good if not better than when I was younger.
This time I got to carry the grocery bags home though.
I remember being in my pre-teens when my mom would drop me off at the metro in MD to ride on into DC and get off at the Tenleytown stop (all by myself!) and ride the escalator that seemed like it was a mile high to daylight. Then I'd sit down at the curb of what used to be the Hechingers (which is now a crappy-ass Best Buy no less) to strap on my Rollerblades and continue my 10 or so block journey to grammas apt. building in front of the Cathedral; the understated yet regal Chancery.
Rolling past AU and checking out all of the girls (ew, cooties) playing field hockey, going past the five and dime store (which was called G.C. Murphy's in real life but Gramma insisted it was just the "five and dime") and finally passing the Zebra Room and a block later I was in front of the Chancery. I'd sit on the first step, de-strap and walk on up to the security door and ring the buzzer. Gramma was usually working the desk and switchboard. Yes, it was a real-deal oldschool switchboard. The single RCA-jack cable into the board with a bazillion lil' holes kind of deal. Oldschool.
She'd give me the mail to bring up to her apt and unload and then come back down so we could get the weekends groceries together and hopefully let me go to Sullivans to pick up a toy for the weekend. Sullivans is still there thank god and is sadly the only remaining landmark of my DC childhood still on Wisconsin Ave. Sure, Giant is still there but now it's bigger and brighter and the isles are wider than a single shopping cart. Murphys is gone and still empty too. But Sullivans is still there thank god. Sullivans is an oldschool toystore slash art supply place which hasn't sold out to bigger chains yet. It's maybe two master bedrooms big and filled with intelligent toys instead of the crap you see in most stores today.
I'd usually pick up a model or Lego set and we'd go the counter to check out. Gramma would pull out a $20 from her tiny change purse (she always, ALWAYS had cash which I thought was awesome) and we were on our way. I didn't really think of it until later in life but seeing how she wasn't really on a disposible source of income, I wonder just how much cash she dropped on me during those weekends and how that affected her weekly routines after I had gone...
Moving on from the toy store, we walked over to Giant and picked up the usual. The tiny 6 oz. frozen Minute Maid concentrate cylinders of tangerine juice (if any of you readers can find these still, I'll pay it's weight in gold to you to ship one to me), some coke for my brown cows (coke and vanilla ice cream duh) and some chicken nuggets for dinner. I'd try to grab the bags from her but she always insisted on carrying them. And she would always ask for paper bags inside plastic bags. I never knew why but I miss those paper bags nowadays. I remember looking at her frail arms. Almost see through at times. Bony at parts and strong in others. She walked faster than me through her entire life and was the one always telling me to keep up when I couldn't walk anymore and needed a break.
We'd walk on over to the Zebra Room (which was turned into the "Zebra Lounge" years later which is now a vacant building for christ's sake) to grab a bite to eat. I'd usually order the four-slice personal pepperoni pizza and she would order the club sandwich. The Zebra Room was this tiny hole in the wall pizza joint with white and black tile floors. The booths were black vinyl and most all of the staff were college AU gals. The jukebox always played awesome new-wave/post punk music which I attribute my love for said genre to this day. Again, grammy would drop some cash down after we were done eating and we were on our way back to the pad.
It would be close to 7ish by now so while I started on my toy project, she would draw a bath for me. Once everything was ready I had to go wash up and just relax in the awesome bathtub of hers. It wasn't so much as a grand tub of any sort mind you. It was just one of those old tubs from any average apartment building built in the 30's. All black and white tile. Oldschool metal fixtures et al. I remember laying all the way down and looking up underwater at the bubbles on the surface and trying to see how long I could hold my breath. It was the best bathtub in the entire universe and was the only bathtub I ever took a bath in. I think it's the last one I used to this day.
After the bath I'd come out in my PJ's and sit at the kitchen table with Gramma. She'd be playing solitaire and I'd continue creating some sort of toy. We'd watch Jeopardy on her 13" color tv which still had the channel knob that went up to 13. ABC wouldn't come in too great "because of the damn Russian embassy and their damn satellite's screwing up the reception." I had no idea what she was talking about at the time but to this day I still have some odd deep-seeded disdain towards the Russian embassy when I drive past it.
Around 9 we'd retire to the bedroom. Gramma had two twins. Mine was nearest the window. She'd usually get a shopping bag full of the weekly enquirer rags from another tenant which she liked to read and laugh at while I continued to be entertained by the TV in the corner. Usually most of the time I'd sit up in bed under the blankets with my knees up creating some sort of blanket mountain of sorts. The creases and folds made an awesome downhill race track which I sent all of my fearless Matchbox cars down. I remember doing this for damn near an hour some nights making new tracks with the folds and seeing which ones were faster to the bottom.
When it was time to go to bed, she usually kept the windows open which created my most favorite memory of my stays with her. The city traffic that passed were like ocean waves to me. The ambulances and fire trucks passing by. The whhhrr's of the city buses airbrakes stopping at the stop in front of the apt. building. All of the angry drivers honking. Bliss.
I miss going there. She used to tell me that I would stop coming over when I got older. After getting a drivers license or discovering girls or realizing that staying with grandma wasn't cool anymore. I never believed her until it really was the truth. When hanging out with friends was more important than club sandwiches. One time when I was 16 I think I asked to come over and the excitement in her voice was all I needed to tell me it was a good idea to call. Just knowing that there was this strong old woman who was as pleased as punch just to have me over for company made me happy. I did go visit but this time I drove. We went through all of the usual routines and it was as good if not better than when I was younger.
This time I got to carry the grocery bags home though.
- Monday, April 21, 2008 at 10:46 AM
- Posted by JKREW
- 0 Comments
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