I remembered what my grandfather told me once about ladies his age. He said, “ They don’t swell, they don’t tell and they appreciate it like hell.” So as I prepared to start my cross-country jaunt I got on the Internet and sent out a few feelers to the ladies on my dearly departed Grandfather’s address list. Surprise, surprise, I got nearly twenty answers to my note. My note read:
“To the ladies on my grandfathers list: I am James Grant’s grandson and will be traveling his well-traveled route. If any one reading this note would like for me to stop by and say ’Hi” please drop me a note before [the date of my departure]."
I live on the East Coast and will be going through twenty-five states before I return. I could not believe just how willing some of these ladies were to talk about my Grandfather and what he did for them. Eighteen of the twenty were widows and two were married to invalids so they were as good as widowed in my Grandpa’s way of thinking.
Grandpa had been married to the same lady for thirty-six years. However after Grandma passed away he changed into some kind of wild man. He bought a new motor home and headed out across country. I ask him where he was going but all he said, was Where ever the road goes. He took that coach for a trial run and came back ten months later thirty pound lighter with a sun tan from head to foot and there not trunk marks, or so he said. That was nearly a year ago. The coach has been in storage all that time but has now been released by the court and is mind to do with as I wish. Where I got this crazy idea to go visit the ladies my Grandpa knew and visited on his last trip came out of the thin air. But here I was ready to go, the tank was full and so was I with enthusiasm and excitement.
My first stop was in a small town in Northern Georgia. Her name was Mrs. Green. Alma Green. North Georgia and Green had me thinking that Grandpa had gone to see a black lady. I pulled up into a long paved drive way. The house was three stories with those tall columns in front like the ones you see in old movies of the south. A black man answered the door. He accepted my card while guiding me to a library off the main hall. A minute later a tall lady glided into the room. I swear she did not walk at all. She moved with a grace that one has to be born with. Her silver gray hair was loose to her neck. Her mouth was deep ruby red. The eyes were made up and deep blue. I thought they had to be color contacts. A slim hand was offered and I took it with care. However, I found her grip firm and she was the one that did not want to let go. So I held her hand in mine for along time. When she offered me a seat and took one herself I let go of her hand.
“You look like your grandfather. Your names is the same so I take it he was your father’s father.” She said it as a question and a statement all rolled into one. I told her yes he was and I was named after him. I told her my father was also dead and I was the last of the line unless I am lucky enough to someday have a son of my own.
Tea was served and we made small for a few minutes. I started to feel comfortable with this lady so I ask. “Mrs. green may I ask you a direct and personal question?” Her big blue eyes looked at me and I thought I saw a smile in there. She said, “You want to know what kind of relationship and your grandfather had. Am I right?” she hit the nail on the head. I only nodded and smiled back at her.
