Memories of ?

After everyone had gone to bed, I was lying awake thinking about the olives and the picnics at my grandmother’s and Aunt Pooh’s houses. 

“Isn’t it funny how my mother is remembered for her remark about olives?”

“You ought to have it put on her tombstone.”

I knew Ed was joking, but I wondered what my mother would have thought of that.  I hate to say it, but humor wasn’t her strong point.

“What do you think the kids will tell their kids about us?”

Ed sighed.  “Here we go again.  We will probably be around long after our grandchildren are grown, so the kids won’t need to tell them anything.”

“But what if we’re not?”

“Why don’t you write down what you want them to remember?”

“But that’s not the same thing.  It should be spontaneous.”

“Well, they’ll probably remember the time you lost it and said, ‘We are not having any goddamn artificial Christmas trees in this house!  Ever!’  The ever was the best part.”

I haven’t decided whether this was one of my prouder moments or more shameful ones.

“Maybe every Christmas when they put the tree up, someone will say, 'We are not having any goddamn artificial Christmas tress is this house!  Ever!’ and the kids will laugh  (unless Betsey decides that in her house they won’t use trees that have been cut down and maybe hurt animals and Josh becomes a priest who really can’t joke about swearing) and they’ll remember poor . . . “

I suddenly had a thought.  What were the grandchildren going to call me?  “What do you want our grandchildren to call you?”

“Charlie.  Seriously?”

“Grandma is fine for me, since that’s what I called my grandmother and that’s what they call three of their grandmothers.  Janet might not like them using the same name they did for Missy,”

“Now Janet and Missy probably won’t be around.”

“They could still say it at Betsey’s.  As irony.”

“Say what?  Oh, about the trees.”

I had another idea.  “Maybe one of the grandchildren will have a cute name for me before he or she can really talk and everyone will use it.  Karen calls her grandmother Noo Noo.  It’s a long story.”

“Fine.  I’ll speak to the first grandchild about it.”

I fell asleep thinking of Betsey and Josh and Cilla putting up their trees.  And of Christmas dinners when someone would say “Olives are so festive.”  It would be like Tiny Tim’s “God bless us every one.”