Full disclosure: I cashed out of grandparents over 5 years ago.
And that last one, my mom’s mother who was the shit (lots of people say that about their grandparents–it was patently true about this one), had outlived the previous grandparent by a good 3-4 years.
Point is… I haven’t had a ton of opportunity to experience this feeling over the last 5-8 years, but that hasn’t lessened the enjoyment whenever it does randomly come around. Difference now is, it’s not my grandma.
Don’t get me wrong… some older people fucking suck. I get the distinct feeling I’m going to be one of those people with each and every passing day. They’re often surly and bitter and grouchy and borderline (if not outright) racist and brutally honest and uncomfortably unfiltered. Sometimes they all sleep together in the same bed and don’t offer to help provide for the family until an all expenses-paid trip to a candy factory is proffered and they’re amazingly cured of their bedridden condition.
Of course, there are others. And here’s an example of a small thing you can do to get this feeling, something I’ve done.
You’re cruising down an aisle in your local supermarket, either grooving to your own tunes or just totally digging the in-house playlist (the music at supermarkets is bangin’). You’re so in the mix you totally lose track of your surroundings as you pore over the 37 different varieties of pasta sauce. Are any of these actually on sale or are there just a ton of tags that look like sales? I can’t really allow myself to spend $9.99 on a jar of sauce, can I? Do I really need four different cheeses? These are the thoughts that occupy your mind as you continue your pondering.
Suddenly, you look to your right and towards the end of the aisle there’s an elderly woman seemingly going through the same struggle. Upon further inspection, it’s not the variety that’s giving Nana trouble, but rather the fact that she literally can’t reach or lift whatever she’s gunning for.
Without waiting for an invitation, you go over and ask her if she needs help. If she’s not a dick, she’s thrilled and tells you what she needs. You reach it, take it down off the shelf like an NBA superstar, she thanks you like you saved the store from going out of business in a single swoop and then you both go on your way.
I’ll say this: I think for me the feeling is even better because I can’t capture it unless in the wild.
Polar Opposite of this Feeling?: I’m not quite sure. Telling your grandma to go to hell? That’s just an awful feeling. I don’t know what the opposite of this is. Fail on me.
scott spinelli 