Don't Speak Ill

I was fortunate enough to know both grandmothers well. The same cannot be said for my grandfathers though. My dad's dad passed away when I was a tot and, in fact, my mother's father died while she was still a child.

I'm mentioning this to provide an opportunity to mention 'Grammy'. I am pretty sure she was born in the US but her parents immigrated. Her name was Ina. As far as I can recall, before getting married to Burt Hurd, her family name was Matson. She was a rather tiny woman. She smoked cigarettes and enjoyed cashews; consequently, her furniture smelled of both. As a kid, during the summer, I would ride my bike about three miles on back roads to visit her. She let me use the a riding mover after I complained about the old rotary push type. My grandmother tried to teach me the numbers in Finnish but I never made much progress in that respect. I remember that Grammy used to relate the negative effects of getting old. I never paid much attention to that either.

Now that I'm approaching the big five oh, I am starting to appreciate what she was talking about. I complained to my doctor about a sore neck which had lasted a month. He simply said I was getting to 'that age'. Luckily, my doctor is a few years older than me. I want an experienced baby-boomer as a doctor. He'll find out in advance where I'm heading. Today, I developed a new ache. My knee hurts a lot. I think the area near my knee looks swollen but it might be my imagination.

Grammy was right about getting old. I should have shown more empathy.