This is, unfortunately, a fictional story. As it is my *first*, your constructive comments are welcome and appreciated.
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A few years ago, I learned that sometimes I really don't know people as well as I think I do. My grandparents proved that to me one night when I was at their house for dinner, and it's a lesson I'll never forget. At the time, I had just graduated from college and was working for a venture capital firm in Chicago. I had returned to my hometown of Omaha Nebraska for a Christmas visit and had planned to stay for about 2 weeks.
Not long after I arrived, I got a call from my Grandfather who lived a few miles from my parents' house where I was staying. I hadn't seen him or my Grandmother since I left for school about 4 years before. My Grandparents have always been really cool, way ahead of their time. In their heyday, my Grandfather was a very successful professional photographer and my Grandmother a model and, believe it or not, dancer! They have no problem discussing political, social, economic, or other issues, including sex. I missed my conversations with them and was really looking forward to seeing them while I was home.
After catching up for a while, my Grandfather asked if I wanted to come over for dinner the following night. He said that my Grandmother had special plans for her Grandson and that she would be really disappointed if I couldn't make it. I said, "of course Grandpa, I'd love too! - what time do you want me to show up?" He said 7:30 would be fine. I asked what I should bring. To my surprise, he said, "a bottle of Tequila and a shaker of salt." I thought he was joking! I asked, "really Grandpa? - I haven't done shots since my frat days!" He replied, "that's exactly why I want you to bring it John, I haven't either." Sensing my Grandpa was needing a little zest in his life, I agreed to bring the "goods" and hung up with a sense of anticipation and curiosity.
The next day seemed to fly by, and soon it was time to make the trek over to Grandma and Grandpa's house. I stopped by the liquor store on the way over and picked up a bottle of Cuervo Reserva, salt, and (Grandpa must have forgotten) limes. I arrived at their house, a modest suburban 3 bedroom, right on time. As I reached for the doorbell, the door flew open and both Grandpa and Grandma rushed out to greet me with their typical warm smiles. Grandma hugged me for what seemed like the longest time before moving back slightly to look into my eyes. "I've missed you John," she said, "your Grandfather and I need a little something to spice up our lives, we're really glad you came." After Grandma and I finished our embrace, I thrust out the bottle of Cuervo toward my Grandfather and, looking directly at him said, "then it's spice you shall have!" We all laughed as we felt the distance between us instantly melt away.
As usual, we couldn't stop talking once we got started. My grandparents wanted to hear all about school, my job, my love life, what I thought about the Gulf War, etc., etc., etc.. I asked them about their lives, and how they had been doing. They said that their health was good, but that they were both beginning to feel old. I asked what they meant and they explained that after 70 years of living, they have begun to feel as though their best years are behind them. I said, "nonsense! - look at the two of you, Grandpa's still the cock of the walk and Grandma's the foxiest woman in all of Omaha!" They both laughed and, in her typically risquΓ© way, my Grandmother added, "well, I'm glad he's the cock of something!" I smiled as I thought about how hard it must be to get old, even more so when you don't feel sexy anymore. I started to get the feeling that what they both needed was a little encouragement.
After an incredible meal, my Grandfather suggested we move down to the bar in the basement for a "nightcap." As I said, my grandparents are cool, and their basement is evidence of that fact. At one end is a solid Mahogany bar, imported from Ireland where my grandparents are from. At the other is a juke box and pool table. In the middle is a fold out couch, one on which I had spent many a night when I was younger.
I could see in his eyes that when my Grandfather said "nightcap," what he really meant was to break out the Tequila and do some shots. It didn't take long until that's exactly what we were doing. I had to pinch myself as I thought about this picture - me and my grandparents, sitting on the couch in the basement with a bottle of Reserva, doing shots - now that had to be a first in some book. As we drank, we soon picked up our conversation where we left off earlier - in fact, my grandparents really seemed eager to talk about this aging thing.