My Grandparents Said 'Lawd' and Other Memories

Goose and gander

My Grandma Elizabeth was a painter. This is one of her ink and watercolors that I love.

My Grandpa MD Gardner used to say “fair to middlin” when people asked him how he was. My Grandma Elizabeth, who Ever Elizabeth is named after, would say, “What’s good for the goose is good for the gander”, sometimes, when she wanted my Grandpa MD to stop complaining or disagreeing. She also would occasionally say '“No” when I asked if she loved me, and when I protested, she’d say, “Ask a stupid question, get a stupid answer.” When exasperated beyond belief, she’d utter, “Oh for the love of God!” or “Goodness sakes!” When I was being sassy Grandpa MD said I was “being a pill”. Grandpa MD used to say little Dakota Wolf, my oldest son, was “Quite the little fellow”, and that was his highest praise. He also said when tired, “I’m fixin to go to sleep.” When pleased, he’d say, “Well, that’s just fine now, isn’t it.” My Grandma Elizabeth would exclaim, “Heaven’s to Betsy!” for irritation or surprise, and I still don’t know what that means, because I’ve purposefully avoiding knowing, because I like what it means to me better, which is my Grandma’s voice and her face and the feeling of her making those words. Betsy was her childhood nickname, one I adore, and I associate it with that too, although I know it’s not intended. I often purposefully avoid fully understanding song lyrics for the same reason, because I like how not knowing adds a sense of vastness and possibility and emotion to the lyrics when I don’t understand part of them, like classical music. As a child I read many books that went over my head like ocean waves, every other sentence over my head, me under and inside, trying to understand, and that sense of being a little bit lost, overwhelmed, out of my league, the way it made my brain expand and search and feel out the words, still is wonderful to me. A little druggy feeling while reading, some confusion, a bit of floating, of waves and waves, is valuable, pleasurable even. As a child I liked to feel a little lost while my Grandparents spoke to me; they had a world long in place before I was there, a world of phrases and nicknames and sayings that meant nothing to me until their meaning was made like this sentence: In my childhood, my grandparents often said… and I can see the twinkle in my Grandpa’s eyes, the way my Grandma’s smile would meet her rosy, round cheeks, I can smell my Grandma’s cardigans and robes, I can see my Grandpa fixing his belt and smoothing his shirt, I can see the leaves blowing on the Mississippi streets, I can smell the wet air in the forest behind their house, I can feel the way they scared me, comforted me, adored me, cared for me, loved me, embraced me as the next in line to mutter ‘oh Lawd’ and to trace my child’s face with one finger as she falls asleep.