Wednesday, January 26, 2005

"Granmaw, Heah, Wif' Me, Bruvuh"
The other day a news guy said, "This is it, folks. We're over the worst. From now on, you can expect at least 50 degrees plus each day as the high. Norfolk has had its winter."

Right away I began to cheer up. That very day I did more moving-in jobs than I have done all the previous three months of my sojourn in this domicile. I worked myself to the bone...well, no. I'm still fat as a pig, but I did work long and hard.

Today was another hard, but happy day. I was awake shortly after 5:00 A.M., making coffee, drinking it, and then toiling like a person getting paid to do what needed to be done. For one thing, the Christmas tree was still here. Lydia took it apart for me yesterday, but all those enormously heavy sections littered the living room floor. Then there was the matter of all the toys on the floor dating from yesterday when Sadie and Benny were here. Finally the foyer floor was dirty from tracked-in whatnot yesterday. After drinking that coffee, I tore into the tidying tasks. By 9:00 A.M. the floor was cleared and clean and the vacuum had run yet another marathon. I folded laundry and took it upstairs. The Christmas tree sat in its two boxes out on the porch. I mopped all the tile. Sweaty and tired, I took a bath.

Then, to my great joy, Lydia pulled into the driveway and dropped off Benny. This was our weekly cooking class day. We made double fudge brownies.
Benny had to read aloud the recipe. He had to lay out the utensils we would need. He set the temp on the oven, measured and stirred ingredients, poured the goop into the pan, carried the pan to the oven, washed the utensils, and...while those brownies baked...played Spyro: A Dragon's Tail on his Nintendo Gamecube in my dining room.
Exactly as the brownies came out of the oven, Lydia and baby Sadie pulled back into the driveway...they had been at Sadie's baby music class. Sadie was so sleepy that she went right up to her bed in the back bedroom. Lydia and Benny had lunch and began to make invitations to Benny's Birthday party coming up in February. One thing lead to another and we all had a good time. It was about 2:15 P.M. when they had to go home for Sadie's afternoon nap.

Now I was tired. I laid myself down on the sofa and thought about going to sleep. Then I had a good idea.
I thought, "It's warm outside. I haven't grocery-shopped for a couple of weeks. Why don't I go to the ghetto grocery like everyone else...on foot?"
To cut a long story short, I dug the collapsable shopping cart out of the laundry room, set off and dragged that cart 14 blocks to the store. On the way I several times wondered if I was about to pass out on the sidewalk from lack of oxygen, but I made it. At the store I took my time and looked up fresh vegetables, etc. I had to stand in two lines because of a problem with one of the check out machines. Eventually I emerged from the store with a full cart and began to toil my way home. Going back was harder because I felt seriously tired.
At last, at last.... I was within two blocks of home when I ran into a sidewalk block. Some people at the red brick apartments had pulled up and over the sidewalk with an old wrecked truck. There was a scant foot between the truck and the street. A young man came out of one of the apartments and got into the truck. He saw me and did not turn on the truck, but just bared his teeth at me as though he were a dog. I was by now so very tired.... I begged, "Could you please move your truck just a few inches so that I might have a better chance of getting by you without going out into the street with all this stuff I'm dragging?" He yelled, "NO!!!!!" He glared at me as though I personally were responsible for the fact that he lives in a tiny wretched slum apartment. I begged again, "Oh, please..." At this point, an old man, very very drunk roared out of the downstairs apartment, "Get out in the street, yo'all ho. Yo ole, bitch. Get out they and die yo'all whi' bitch."
I measured the available space between the truck and the street and realized that in rush hour traffic I would indeed be forced into the street with an unwieldy cart of groceries. I was so tired, I was light-headed and wondered if I might fall over and pass out right there.
Suddenly I heard a deep, ultra-resonant voice, "She wif me! Granmaw wif me, bruvuh, and don' you fo'get it."
The meany and the drunk did what I believe qualified as shit-eating grins and backed into their dwelling places without any more granmaw abuse. I looked back. If I had not been so dead tired, I might have been afraid. The guy was enormous, way over six feet and built like a tank. He strode over to me, lowered his voice and said kindly, "Now you com'on granmaw. Ah gonna get yu'all home. Whey is it?"
He did get me home. At the next light, traffic stood still as he stepped out with a massive arm up. I was able to take my time crossing. Once at my house, I said to him, "You are such a nice young fellow to do this for me." Says he, "Jes' remembah, You got one mo' granbaby now." He smiled and flashed an acre of bright white teeth.
Another day on 38th Street.

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