Mom On the Alert

Oh my God, we're old!

I went out of the house today. I was gone a little over two hours. When I came home and opened the door I was assaulted with the odor I remembered from my paternal grandparents house. I used to refer to it as the 'old' smell. I went around and opened all the windows, even though it is a little chilly this afternoon.

I never understood what caused this odor. I'd always assumed that it was just that everything in the house was old. The house was old, the belongings were old, and the people who inhabited the house were old. The smell is something more than stuffy.

My Dad's parents were the parents of nine children, grandparents of fifteen, and already great grandparents of more by the time I was born. Once they moved to California, my grandparents lived in an old but pleasant neighborhood in downtown LA.

Whenever I picture this grandfather I see him as wearing a suit. I don't know if this was his usual mode of dress or because every picture I have of him shows him dressed in this manner. I was told that he was a learned man. And that he spoke several languages. Well, I know he spoke at least four. Yet, there seemed to be little communication between us.

The visits were rather formal. Neither my grandmother nor my grandfather seemed very interested in me. Looking back, I guess these visits were 'duty' visits. I don't think my Mom and my grandmother had the best of relationships.

I was usually bored when I went over to these grandparents's house. There was nothing to do. We usually sat in the living room and the conversation was stilted. So very different than the lively discussions I remember my other grandparents house.

My Mom's parents seemed so vital and alive, but more than that, it was apparent that I was important to both of them. I didn't have to watch my words. I was more cautious with my Dad's parents. Why this was true I don't really know except that apparently I hurt my grandmother's feelings when I was four.

Even after all these years, I remember this incident. Apparently my grandmother had a habit of asking me some awful questions when I was little. She would ask me who I loved more, my Mommy or my Daddy? When my Mother overheard these questions she was horrified and pointedly told my Grandmother not to ask me such things.

However, this did not stop the behavior. As I remember this particular incident, I was talking to this grandmother on the telephone. She asked me "Which grandparents did I love more, my grandma and grandpa Roston, or my grandma and grandpa Chodos."

Well, that was an easy question to answer. I answered as only a four year old would answer. Truthfully. My Mom's parents won hands down. My grandmother was hurt by my answer. And did not leave it there.

When word got 'round of what I'd said, my mother made me call my grandmother to apologize. I still remember this call. And, I remember my mother muttering under her breath. 'I told her not to ask such questions! I told her one day she might not like the answer!"

What all this has to do with the 'old' smell, I don't know. I just don't want my house to have it.

Posted by Judi at March 3, 2005 7:41 PM | TrackBack