I loved my grandmother very much. She knew instinctively what it took to make and keep my happy. Ice cream was one of those ways.
When I was a little girl, she would quietly take me to one side, look around to see if anyone was watching, then slip some money into my hands. Then she would whisper so to ensure that no one would hear...
“This is for ice cream,” she said with an urgent whisper,
“don’t tell your grandfather.”
With an obeying nod, I solemnly gave her my promise that no one would ever know.
Yes, I loved ice cream, but grandmother loved ice cream even more. My aunt always giggled at how after she came to visit with the family for several weeks, grandmother always left a little rounder than when she first arrived. I have no doubt that this stemmed from sharing her love of ice cream with all her grandchildren.
So, now that she is no longer with us, and has been taken up to heaven, I cannot help but wonder if she is in any way able to get hold of a double dip.
As Christians, we were always taught that “God will provide.” Some would say that God will provide us with our needs, but I tell you, that for my grandmother, ice cream remains a necessity.
So, when I get to heaven, I fully expect her to eventually take me quietly aside. Then, like before, she will slip some money into my hands and with that familiar urgent whisper say to me ...
“This is for ice cream... don’t tell God!”
Monday, May 31, 2010
Monday, May 10, 2010
A Thing About Vampires
Everyone has a fear of one type of unnatural creature or another.
It could be mummies, a disembodied hand, zombies, werewolves, on and on.
For me, ... it’s vampires.
It all began in the early 1970’s when I went to a vampire double feature at the movies. The first movie was THE FEARLESS VAMPIRE KILLERS or “Pardon me, but your teeth are in my neck” and the second feature was DARK SHADOWS, the movie based on the popular 1960’s television show.
There was a scene when Barnabas Collins suddenly appeared behind a sheer curtain at a moonlight filled window. Only a few seconds later, he was feasting on some poor girl’s neck. For quite a while after that, I wore a scarf to bed and tried my best to sleep with one eye open, because I had those same sheers for curtains.
Okay, now fast forward to 1977. It is June and I m on my honeymoon in Toronto at the Eaton Shopping Center. We enter a bookstore and begin looking around for nothing in particular.
While in the paperback section, my husband reaches for a paperback, skims the back cover, and then holds it out to me.
“Here,” he says to me, “I want you to read this.”
I take it into my hands and begin to read what it’s about. I quickly learn that it’s about... guess what? Of course, it’s about vampires. Even the title SALEM’S LOT (by Stephen King) is ominous.
I remember shaking my head NO and muttering something to Frank that I didn’t like vampires. But unfortunately, he was most insistent.
“Read it,” he repeated as he held it out to me.
It had been a while since I read a book, and I had heard alot about this new author.
Besides, within a few days we I would find myself on a long voyage out east to Nova Scotia where Frank had been newly stationed. I thought the book might help break the monotony.
We bought it.
Sure enough, before I knew it, Frank and I were on our way to start a new life in a new province. The car was filled with all that we owned, clothes, music, and each other.
I think we were in the middle of Quebec when I first opened the book and began to read it.
Oddly enough, when I think back, I remember reading it while listening to Art Garfunkel’s new album ANGEL CLAIRE.
As days went by, I delved further and further into the book. It became more and more bloody and increasingly difficult to bear. Every now and again, Frank would ask me how I was enjoying the book.
“It’s bloody scary.” I’d answer. He’d give me an odd look of puzzlement, which I could never really figure out.
At long last came the day when I finally, ... finally finished SALEM’S LOT.
With a deep and heavy sigh, I closed the book for the last time. No doubt the visions of glowing eyes, and bloody necks would stay with me for a very long time.
I wondered to myself how long it would be before I ever read another vampire novel again.
(About 20 years – INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE by Anne Rice)
To this day, whenever I hear Art Garfunkel, scenes from SALEMS’S LOT floods my senses.
And of course, came the moment when Frank ultimately asked me the question that I knew he had been dying to ask...
“How did you like the book?”
“Well,” I began, “the first few chapters weren’t that gory, but boy, by the middle of the book I was completely immersed in all the gory ritualistic details that make vampires the blood soaked individuals that they are.
Again, he gave me one of those quizzical looks.
“What are you talking about?” he asked.
With that, I recounted several high points of the plot... the ones ever etched in my mind and never to forget.
“Hmmm,” he said. “Are you sure?”
I nodded yes.
He thought for a moment then said to me...
( and I will NEVER FORGET THIS)
“Sorry, I must have read another book.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It could be mummies, a disembodied hand, zombies, werewolves, on and on.
For me, ... it’s vampires.
It all began in the early 1970’s when I went to a vampire double feature at the movies. The first movie was THE FEARLESS VAMPIRE KILLERS or “Pardon me, but your teeth are in my neck” and the second feature was DARK SHADOWS, the movie based on the popular 1960’s television show.
There was a scene when Barnabas Collins suddenly appeared behind a sheer curtain at a moonlight filled window. Only a few seconds later, he was feasting on some poor girl’s neck. For quite a while after that, I wore a scarf to bed and tried my best to sleep with one eye open, because I had those same sheers for curtains.
Okay, now fast forward to 1977. It is June and I m on my honeymoon in Toronto at the Eaton Shopping Center. We enter a bookstore and begin looking around for nothing in particular.
While in the paperback section, my husband reaches for a paperback, skims the back cover, and then holds it out to me.
“Here,” he says to me, “I want you to read this.”
I take it into my hands and begin to read what it’s about. I quickly learn that it’s about... guess what? Of course, it’s about vampires. Even the title SALEM’S LOT (by Stephen King) is ominous.
I remember shaking my head NO and muttering something to Frank that I didn’t like vampires. But unfortunately, he was most insistent.
“Read it,” he repeated as he held it out to me.
It had been a while since I read a book, and I had heard alot about this new author.
Besides, within a few days we I would find myself on a long voyage out east to Nova Scotia where Frank had been newly stationed. I thought the book might help break the monotony.
We bought it.
Sure enough, before I knew it, Frank and I were on our way to start a new life in a new province. The car was filled with all that we owned, clothes, music, and each other.
I think we were in the middle of Quebec when I first opened the book and began to read it.
Oddly enough, when I think back, I remember reading it while listening to Art Garfunkel’s new album ANGEL CLAIRE.
As days went by, I delved further and further into the book. It became more and more bloody and increasingly difficult to bear. Every now and again, Frank would ask me how I was enjoying the book.
“It’s bloody scary.” I’d answer. He’d give me an odd look of puzzlement, which I could never really figure out.
At long last came the day when I finally, ... finally finished SALEM’S LOT.
With a deep and heavy sigh, I closed the book for the last time. No doubt the visions of glowing eyes, and bloody necks would stay with me for a very long time.
I wondered to myself how long it would be before I ever read another vampire novel again.
(About 20 years – INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE by Anne Rice)
To this day, whenever I hear Art Garfunkel, scenes from SALEMS’S LOT floods my senses.
And of course, came the moment when Frank ultimately asked me the question that I knew he had been dying to ask...
“How did you like the book?”
“Well,” I began, “the first few chapters weren’t that gory, but boy, by the middle of the book I was completely immersed in all the gory ritualistic details that make vampires the blood soaked individuals that they are.
Again, he gave me one of those quizzical looks.
“What are you talking about?” he asked.
With that, I recounted several high points of the plot... the ones ever etched in my mind and never to forget.
“Hmmm,” he said. “Are you sure?”
I nodded yes.
He thought for a moment then said to me...
( and I will NEVER FORGET THIS)
“Sorry, I must have read another book.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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