I made an important discovery this morning! Somehow, I managed to sleep through my vibrating alarm clock this morning (possibly the battery died, but more likely I shut it off and went back to sleep, obliterating the memory of being buzzed awake in the first place). I woke up with a jolt around 5:50, and realized that my doorbell alert system was flashing madly. I knew it had to be my swim-lesson buddy, Monica, who picks me up at 5:45 on Thursday mornings. So I jumped out of bed, cursing madly, grabbed one hearing aid, and tore down the stairs. Just before I opened the door, I realized I was almost naked, so grabbed a jacket and raced outside. I'd managed to pick up the right-ear hearing aid, which meant I couldn't hear a darn thing. Plus, while I could see Monica's car, it was still really dark out, so I couldn't figure out where she was standing. She finally tapped my arm, after she managed to control her hysterical laughing at near-naked, wild-haired, confused little me. Oy vey. But we made it to swimming and even had a decent workout. So what was my great discovery, you ask? Well, it was good to learn that my deaf-chick doorbell can actually wake me up!
______________________
But my harrowing morning was not what I planned to write about today. This day, November 13, is the 94th birthday of my amazing and wonderful grandmother, Flora Mermelstein. My grandmother is a force to be reckoned with, and a constant source of inspiration to me. She lives every day of her life as fully and enthusiastically as she can, and she has never stopped learning, exploring, and challenging herself. At 94, she still works a few days a week as the bookkeeper for a prestigious entertainment law firm in Manhattan. She walks to the Fairway Market and Lincoln Center (and Filene's Basement, where she buys some of her always-stylish outfits). She has always been a fabulous cook, and she still makes delicious meals even when she is cooking only for herself. While she travels a bit less than she used to (her wonderful travel stories fuel my insatiable wanderlust), she continues her annual Rosh Hashana trek to Colorado. When she couldn't get here in 2001 (because 9/11 was just a week before the holiday), the sadness and disorientation we felt in the wake of the terrorist attacks were compounded by the strangeness of her absence.
My grandmother reads the New York Times every day, listens to NPR, and watches public television. She knows more about current events and international affairs than anyone I know (except maybe my father). She is a staunch liberal Democrat, and a vocal supporter of reproductive freedom, gay rights, church/state separation, free speech, and international human rights. Her charitable and philanthropic efforts have ranged from typing Braille documents for the blind back in the '70s (I loved playing with her Braille typewriter when I was a kid) to bringing meals to homebound AIDS patients in the '90s, to her generous financial support for my father's public interest human rights law firm, for the Foundation Fighting Blindness, for diabetes research, and more.
Grandma was the first in the family to use an Apple computer, and taught the rest of us about this strange gizmo known as a "mouse." She uses e-mail and has a cell phone, and is pretty savvy about the latest technology. Like most of my family members (perhaps this is where we get it from), she is a voracious reader, and her book recommendations are always superb. She is also a wonderful writer, with a sharp wit and a delightful flair for language. She writes book reviews and other essays for her Hadassah chapter newsletter, but her real talents shine through at important family celebrations, when she treats the honoree to a poem or song. At a recent gala dinner for the 80th birthday of Grandma's boss, a well-known theatre lawyer, the song my grandmother and aunt composed and sang brought down the house and earned kudos from all sorts of Broadway big shots.
I have been incredibly lucky to develop a close and unique relationship with my grandmother. When I was a little girl, my parents would sometimes leave me with her and my grandfather when they went on vacation, so despite the fact that we lived 2,000 miles apart, she and I were able to bond from the time I was very young. During my Vassar years, she gave me my own set of keys so that I could come and hang out in New York City whenever I wanted to. She never complained when I stayed out until the wee hours with friends, and we would have wonderful talks in the mornings over strong black coffee and thin slices of toasted bagel covered with pineapple cottage cheese. One of our most special times together was during my junior year, when I was living in Strasbourg, France. She traveled to France on an Elderhostel program, and we roamed the streets of Paris and Strasbourg together, drinking wine, eating great food, and having wonderful conversations.
My grandmother was (and still is) a beautiful woman, and she had many suitors. But she didn't marry until she was 30, pretty old for her generation, because she was holding out for the right man. She found him in my grandfather, who stole her heart and made her laugh like no one else. Since I reached adulthood, she has always told me never to settle, and to wait to get married until I meet the right man. Of course, since it became clear that I was actually following that advice, she's started pushing me a bit, saying that she doesn't want to live forever, only long enough to dance at my wedding. I joke back that my pickiness is really just a ploy to keep her around indefinitely, but the truth is, I can't imagine getting married without her there to share it with me.
So today, my Grandma Flora is 94 years old. I hope this year brings her great joy and good health and many new experiences. I am forever blessed to have her as my everlovin' G-ma.
Comments