(That is NOT my dear departed Grandma)Witty and sharped tounged women run in my family. It's a gift really, and with each generation one steps forward to take the spotlight. My Grandma Driscoll was the spotlighter in her day. She was amazing. Beautiful and sharp as a tack, she was a bookie, yup a bookie, in the days when women didn't even consider doing those things, but Gramma was different. She loved sports, she loved politics, and her beloved Red Sox, (which is probably where I got some of it) and she would run the numbers every day with her brother-in law Louie at his dining room table. She was one special chick. Men loved her, because she could handicap a game, place a bet for them and sit down and chew the fat about the NFL, the NHL and then smoothly transition to any other topic of current events or politics with ease.
And Grandma Driscoll could tell a joke. Of course, she'd tell dirty ones, but I never really heard any because she would send us kids out of the room for those.
I do remember her telling me this joke when I got older:
Why does a bee hum??
You'd hum too if you just laid your honey.
Then she'd laugh her special laugh.
The best memory we all have of Grandma Driscoll is one Thanksgiving at the dinner table. We were all going around the table, with each member saying a little something they were thankful for, as most families tend to do on Thanksgiving. When we got to Grandma Driscoll, she said, "I don't think I'll say anything. Instead I'd like to sing you all a song."
She then proceeded to sing us this song in a very small and soft singing voice:
"Oh, there was a little bird no bigger than a turd who flew to a telegraph pole.
He stretched his little neck, and he shit about a peck,
then he closed up his little asshole."
Each and every one of her 13 great grandchildren have been taught that song in her memory.
As they say, they broke the mold when they made my Grandma.
I miss her so much sometimes and often wonder what kind of advice she would give me today.
Your grandma sounds like a very special lady - congratulations.
ReplyDeleteI remember this ditty (courtesy of my grandpa):
There was a dog named Jack.
He pooped along the railroad track.
The train came by,
The poop did fly and hit the conductor right in the eye.
I feel kinda cheated right now. All my grandparents lived in England (while I'm here in Seattle) and I only saw them a few times during my childhood. And now they're gone. Frankly, I knew my step-mom's mother better than I knew my own grandparents, because I used to visit her every weekend (and sneak her some chocolate in my purse, of course) in her nursing home. I miss her so much. :-(
ReplyDeleteSomething tells me she was a good poker player as well.
ReplyDeleteWHERE is CANDY'S DISH!!!!!
ReplyDeleteI miss my grandmas too. Nobody loves you like your grandma.
ReplyDeleteShe sounds awesome, so she would probably advise you to make me the winner of your comment contest.
ReplyDeleteI never really knew any of my grandparents. My grandmother on my Mom's side is the only one who was alive when I was born, and she died when I was 3. I only vaguely remember her. I've always felt cheated out of that granparental experience. Must be why I love old people so much, and why I'm always on the lookout for "adopted" grandparents. Sadly, both of my adopted grandpas - Burgess Meredith and James Whitmore - are gone. I need to find a new one.
What a great lady! My grandma on my dads side was like that, and also a big stout women.
ReplyDeleteYour grandma sounds like the hawtness! I just love a bawdy old lady. My granny took great enjoyment in farting as loud as she could - and she could could blast them, lemme tell ya - and if anyone objected she would say with great seriousness, "If you don't let the gas out it'll hang around in your system and poison you."
ReplyDeleteI miss my gram too!!
ReplyDeleteYour Gramma is a lady after my own heart, Candy! Love her!
ReplyDeleteIs this some kind of a time warp, Haven't I seen this post before?
ReplyDeleteWil Harrison.com
Your grandmother reminds me a lot of my mother. My favorite song my mom taught me (and I promptly taught my kids when they started school) went like this:
ReplyDeleteGreat green gobs of greasy grimey gopher guts,
Mutiliated monkey meat,
Dirty little birdie feet!
French fried eyeballs rolling down a dirty street
Thats what boys are made of!
This song is perfect when you have girls who tell stories of boys that chase them on the playground! Lol. Thanks for sharing your memories they brought out many of my own!
I have no grandmothers left, but if I did, I'd hope they'd teach me my own bird defecating song.
ReplyDeleteHey Candy, it's Chrish. I'm going all anonymous like on a new blog. I hope you'll come visit...
ReplyDeletechris-knucklehead.blogspot.com
See ya!
She sounds like a very special, wonderful woman. I was a bookie also for a few years. I would have loved to meet her, maybe sit down for a beer and some poker!
ReplyDeleteI honestly think that she would tell you to keep doing what you are doing. Continue approaching everything in life with passion, enthusiasm, and commitment. Continue being open and loving and optimistic. Continue to live life to the fullest!!
This post was so very very awesome.
ReplyDeletethank you for writing it!
maybe you can get other family members to remember the dirty jokes.
:)