Stories for Grandchildren.

So since my uncle's been here, I've been hearing tons of stories about all the crazy shit my grandpa used to do. My mom is less eager to share stories, but she did say of my grandma, "When I was a teenager, she used to do embarrassing things in public just to see my reaction...." which made me think, for the first time in my life, that I"m clearly related to this woman. When I'm a mother, I'm definitely going to be intentionally embarrassing my children just cos I have nothing better to do. And then when I'm a grandma I'm going to unintentionally embarrass my family by flirting with waiters less than 1/3 of my age. Aw grandma..... :-)

So anyway, my uncle is telling stories about my grandpa's youth. A couple I've heard from him before, such as the story he told me last year when I was visiting him in San Francisco. Apparently my grandpa was a merchant marine (this was new to me) and was sleeping on deck during a storm in the middle of the ocean in the middle of the night, and a huge wave came and bucked him off the ship. He managed to grab the last possible railing on the edge of the ship, saving himself by clinging on for dear life. Eventually he managed to pull himself back onto the ship in the middle of this storm.

When my brother and I heard this, we looked at each other and said, "WHY THE HELL DIDN'T GRANDPA BOTHER MENTIONING THIS TO US?"

And I still wonder that. I love my grandpa, but he's an older fella now. I grew up knowing nothing about him, and now I'm only learning about him through my uncle's love of telling stories--and I only see that uncle once every couple years.

Tonight at dinner my uncle shared a different story about my grandpa, about how he got shot at in Indonesia. Apparently there was some sort of civil war or something going on when he stopped there with the merchant marine boat, and they all got shot at and narrowly escaped. I'm not doing justice to the story, but just trust me that it's kind of awesome.

It's just been weird taking in these stories and such, and it makes me wonder what my grandkids would know about me. I feel like I would be much more eager to freely volunteer information and stories, unlike my grandpa who never told stories but rather explained scientific principles, like why you can get liquid to stick in a straw if you put your finger at the top. Come to think of it, pretty much whatever shred of understanding I have of science is thanks to my grandpa. But I know nothing about him as a person.

As for me, I'd want to tell my grandchildren about how this one time I folded laundry on a kibbutz, and how I got mooned by an orthodox jew just outside of Jerusalem, and how this one time in Los Angeles on Venice Blvd I almost ran over a midget dressed as a cowboy riding a unicycle. I want them to know that I supported Welsh independence, and was a card-carrying member of Plaid Cymru, a Welsh political party. If my grandchildren are Israeli, I want them to laugh at what an idiot I am when I tell them that when I first rode Israeli busses I was shocked that drivers give passengers change AND a ticket! Or that when I first got to Israel I couldn't figure out why everyone was playing ping pong on the beach without paddles.

And they'll totally be bored, and they'll whine about how my stories are boring. But I'll yell, "I'm your goddamn grandma, so you better listen anyway!" Because I don't want them to know about me because their uncle told them when they were 20, I want them to know because I told them. Because that's just sad.