Me: “Hi Nan [I
call her Nan, short for Nanna], how are you?”
Grandma: “Happy
birthday Darl [it’s short for Darling], I’m good, how are you?”
Me: “I’m
excellent now, thank you for calling. What’s new?”
Grandma: “I’m getting
married.”
Me: “You’re what
now? Hang on let me pull over. You’re what now!?”
Take that to your front face. Not the usual conversation
about lawn bowls and bingo. I did not even know she had a boyfriend.
Logically you ask when the big day is, as you can
imagine time is not on their side. According to Nan, they have not picked a
date yet because they are trying to get their own place first. My Nan currently
lives with my Uncle, and you could him sigh with relief from next room. The last
thing he wants to hear after a hard day at work is “Honey! Hurry up! The pills
kicked in!”
Over Christmas they were going driving around the country
side in a campervan – the elderly version of a shaggin’ wagon, as a pre-honeymoon. I am now coining the
phrase, “If the campervans a rockin’… we’re probably making a cup of tea”.
I am happy for my Nan, and most of the family has taken it
well. My Grandad passed away six years ago and Nan has been lonely ever since. She
keeps herself busy as much as possible, but it does not replace what she has
lost but merely distracts her; she needed to get out there and get back on it
(only an expression). She said she would never love anybody like my
Grandfather, and I believe her, but there is no reason that she should not love
again.
Two years ago over
dinner she told me she shaved her legs for the first time. Ever.
Technically an “old growth forest” and needed government approval, but with
pins like her's it was only a matter of time that Nan was the minx of the bowls
club.
Weird dinner conversation as it is, it is also kind of cute.
There is dottiness and excitement in her age that compares to the fumbling of a young teenager
on a first date. When you look at it, there is a relationship between how
society views the fire and the passion of doing something for your partner, or to woo
a potential partner, against your age. For example writing “My love for you is
endless like the sea” on a bunch of petrol station flowers when you are:
 |
| The graph of Cuteness. Legally Binding |
A teenager = lovely but corny
Middle aged = sad
Post middle aged but Pre-retirement = ironically corny
Post retirement/elderly = back to cute
It is not impossible to be cute around the 30-50 bracket, its just a bloody lot harder. As I approach
middle age, I become more aware of it each time I get stuck in the clippers
when man-scaping.
The love letter you wrote in school would not have the same affect in the office, unless you spent time in the principal’s office for harassment. And it should not have the same affect. You are different now to what you were then. Life is different. Your responsibilities are different. What you expect from a partner is different. People, who yearn for their teenage glory years, do not be disappointed it will return in retirement. It’s just that the drugs to get you there will be different.
The love letter you wrote in school would not have the same affect in the office, unless you spent time in the principal’s office for harassment. And it should not have the same affect. You are different now to what you were then. Life is different. Your responsibilities are different. What you expect from a partner is different. People, who yearn for their teenage glory years, do not be disappointed it will return in retirement. It’s just that the drugs to get you there will be different.
Good on you Nan, I hope that happiness will follow you, and
you get it all out of your system when I go to visit you next.
