No, I'm not quick enough to be the next Joan Rivers. I do envy her very quick wit! Mine sort of simmers and then pops up. Still, it's fun to make folk laugh.
My Baba (word used by those of Ukrainian heritage for grandmother, since grandmas so often sported the kerchief called a Babushka on their heads) must be where I got a funny bone gene. She was hilarious. I always loved to visit because we would sometimes laugh so hard, we cried. She just was silly sometimes. Didn't see the point of wasted letters in English so pronounced "puh-neumonia" and "kuh-night". She made wry observations, too. I wish we had had inexpensive recording devices back then so we could still listen to her and smile or remember her words.
Me with Grandpa James and Baba Julia
My other grandmother was a character. I suspect some bipolar stuff may have been going on but she was colorful. I mean who else would paint their fence in stripes to resemble the Belgian flag? She had a pair of shoes she liked from the 1930's and had a cobbler make versions of those platformed shoes with the peek-a-boo toes that she wore most of her life. Her hair was always tied back with a shoestring in a low ponytail. Rumor has it she was banned at wrestling matches because of her shaking her cane at one. (Not sure why she had a cane sometimes, I do not remember her as lame). She was an avid fan and we were not to interrupt her TV watching of wrestling.
Me with Grandmere Frances and Granpere "Pete"
Just some rambles today. Have story telling on the brain. Now that I have this journaling, maybe some old photos will be the perfect thing to use with the story on a scrapbook page.
My parents, with my grandparents, on my parents wedding day.
No comments:
Post a Comment