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adventures in octogenarian land
Sep. 17th, 2002 08:27 pmThis afternoon my mother got a phone call from Sister Joan, a nun who I'm distantly related to through my father's side of the family. She called because she was worried about my grandfather.
"Why?" My mother asked.
"Well," Sister Joan said, "We were at lunch the other day and he was quite upset. You see, while we were picketing at [Local All Girls' College] handing out literature, Jim got tired and decided to tie his placard to the college's fence and the college president came out and yelled at him. I think it upset him. I tried to call him today but he sounded funny – could you go check on him?"
For those of you playing along at home who are unfamiliar with my grandfather's antics, the literature he's handing out is of the Pro-Life kind, and yes, he does go down to this poor college on a weekly basis to harass the female students. And yes, if you're wondering, I do know people who go there. And it is just as embarrassing as you might imagine.
Anyway, so my mother called and went down there and found the bedroom door shut and figured my grandfather was napping – it was his usual nap time. When I got home from work, she told me the whole story and I agreed, and all was hunky dory.
Until it got to be eight o'clock and we hadn't heard anything from my grandfather. Like, at all. My mother left him a message and we stood in the kitchen staring at each other over the pan of pork chops we'd just taken out of the oven.
"Should we call him?" My mother asked.
I stared at the yummy pork chops. "Before or after dinner?"
After a pointed look from my mother, I called and, naturally, no answer. I left a semi-frantic message on his machine and then stood awkwardly in the kitchen for five minutes waiting for him to call back before jumping into the minivan and jetting over to his house.
The whole way over I thought: He's dead. This is it. I'm going to find him dead. And then we got there and the lights were on, and I thought: He's alive. I'm going to kill him.
I went into the house and there he was! Eating dinner in front of the TV!
"Grandpa!" I announced. "We've been trying to call you!"
"Hello dear," he said, all nonchalantly. "Yes, I know. I was watching Jeopardy when you called so I didn't pick up."
And then I did a double take because, hello! Frantic message on machine! Answering machine RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU! Pick! Up! The phone! Let us know you're not dead! For the love of God, is that so much to ask?! Those weren't my exact words, of course.
And after I'd given him a brief lecture on the merits of prompt message retrieval and phone call returning, I decided to make a break for it. Pork chops awaiting me and all. But then. But THEN. He turned the big eyes on me and went,
"Sit down, dear. It's so nice to have someone to talk to."
And, you know, direct hit. So I sat down and prepared to talk about work or the weather or whatever, certainly not what I thought I was going to talk about. He asked me about my job, I asked him about his day, which led to a conversation where he explained to me how:
-Planned Parenthood controls the media
-No, wait, it's Planned Parenthood in conjunction with homosexuals who control the media and, therefore, all the world's thoughts
-The reason I don't believe the above (or anything that comes after) is because I have been brainwashed. Apparently it was my seven years of public school that did it; I didn't have the heart to break it to him that I voted for George Bush in my seventh grade election and that it was while I was at my Catholic high school that my Inner Liberal flourished.
-Homosexual sex is wrong because "the plumbing isn't right" and because "God created Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve"
-When asked why he cares so much about homosexuality, he explained to me that he cares so much about homosexual sex is because they're responsible for HIV
-When it's pointed out that the above makes no sense, he explains that the reason they're responsible for HIV is because (now this is where it gets really fun) it is through "unnatural homosexual sex" that HIV is spread and – get this – how it was created in the first place. Now this is a direct quote: "The penis is too large for the anus and it causes tearing and disease." I think I blacked out after that, so I don't know if he got any more detailed.
-When it is pointed out that that is, of course, insane, he simply repeats the above, realizing how his graphic description of sex debilitates his granddaughter and, therefore, limits her ability to argue
-When asked how Lesbians fit into the whole equation, he explained that they are victims of a psychological disorder of some kind.
-And how does he know all this? God says so. In the Bible.
-When it is pointed out that the Bible's theme is more "Love thy neighbor" and "Judge not lest ye be judged" and not so much "Hate the gays," he reverts to the Plumbing Is Wrong argument.
-And if that failed, he went back to the graphic sex description. He knew what his kill move was.
I'm telling you. It was an experience. My contributions to the discussion consisted mainly of:
-Are you INSANE? That makes NO SENSE!
-Do you have a direct line to God? Is that how you know so much about natural law?
-Being gay is NOT like being an alcoholic!
and
-Are you INSANE? That makes NO SENSE!
The thing is, my grandfather and I are similar in a lot of ways, which is why we're such a terrible combination. We're both convinced that we're right, and that if we talk to someone long enough about something, they'll come around because, you know, we're right. And so we sat there for what felt like forever talking in circles because we each were convinced that we could convince the other to See The Light.
It just, it made my head hurt. I can't stand it when people are so illogical! It bothers me! And, you know, the things he's saying are mean and wrong and I can't bear to hear them coming out of the mouth of someone I love! And it makes no sense! Does he listen to himself talk? And anyway, what business does he have discussing sex in a graphic manner with me? That's just gross! I don't want to hear my grandfather talk about sex! It's just...wrong. And gross. Gross and wrong.
Anyway. That was my evening. I think I'm going to climb in bed and watch my tape of Buffy and try to erase the memory of my grandfather using the words "penis" and "anus" and "sex" from my mind. Sounds like a plan.
"Why?" My mother asked.
"Well," Sister Joan said, "We were at lunch the other day and he was quite upset. You see, while we were picketing at [Local All Girls' College] handing out literature, Jim got tired and decided to tie his placard to the college's fence and the college president came out and yelled at him. I think it upset him. I tried to call him today but he sounded funny – could you go check on him?"
For those of you playing along at home who are unfamiliar with my grandfather's antics, the literature he's handing out is of the Pro-Life kind, and yes, he does go down to this poor college on a weekly basis to harass the female students. And yes, if you're wondering, I do know people who go there. And it is just as embarrassing as you might imagine.
Anyway, so my mother called and went down there and found the bedroom door shut and figured my grandfather was napping – it was his usual nap time. When I got home from work, she told me the whole story and I agreed, and all was hunky dory.
Until it got to be eight o'clock and we hadn't heard anything from my grandfather. Like, at all. My mother left him a message and we stood in the kitchen staring at each other over the pan of pork chops we'd just taken out of the oven.
"Should we call him?" My mother asked.
I stared at the yummy pork chops. "Before or after dinner?"
After a pointed look from my mother, I called and, naturally, no answer. I left a semi-frantic message on his machine and then stood awkwardly in the kitchen for five minutes waiting for him to call back before jumping into the minivan and jetting over to his house.
The whole way over I thought: He's dead. This is it. I'm going to find him dead. And then we got there and the lights were on, and I thought: He's alive. I'm going to kill him.
I went into the house and there he was! Eating dinner in front of the TV!
"Grandpa!" I announced. "We've been trying to call you!"
"Hello dear," he said, all nonchalantly. "Yes, I know. I was watching Jeopardy when you called so I didn't pick up."
And then I did a double take because, hello! Frantic message on machine! Answering machine RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU! Pick! Up! The phone! Let us know you're not dead! For the love of God, is that so much to ask?! Those weren't my exact words, of course.
And after I'd given him a brief lecture on the merits of prompt message retrieval and phone call returning, I decided to make a break for it. Pork chops awaiting me and all. But then. But THEN. He turned the big eyes on me and went,
"Sit down, dear. It's so nice to have someone to talk to."
And, you know, direct hit. So I sat down and prepared to talk about work or the weather or whatever, certainly not what I thought I was going to talk about. He asked me about my job, I asked him about his day, which led to a conversation where he explained to me how:
-Planned Parenthood controls the media
-No, wait, it's Planned Parenthood in conjunction with homosexuals who control the media and, therefore, all the world's thoughts
-The reason I don't believe the above (or anything that comes after) is because I have been brainwashed. Apparently it was my seven years of public school that did it; I didn't have the heart to break it to him that I voted for George Bush in my seventh grade election and that it was while I was at my Catholic high school that my Inner Liberal flourished.
-Homosexual sex is wrong because "the plumbing isn't right" and because "God created Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve"
-When asked why he cares so much about homosexuality, he explained to me that he cares so much about homosexual sex is because they're responsible for HIV
-When it's pointed out that the above makes no sense, he explains that the reason they're responsible for HIV is because (now this is where it gets really fun) it is through "unnatural homosexual sex" that HIV is spread and – get this – how it was created in the first place. Now this is a direct quote: "The penis is too large for the anus and it causes tearing and disease." I think I blacked out after that, so I don't know if he got any more detailed.
-When it is pointed out that that is, of course, insane, he simply repeats the above, realizing how his graphic description of sex debilitates his granddaughter and, therefore, limits her ability to argue
-When asked how Lesbians fit into the whole equation, he explained that they are victims of a psychological disorder of some kind.
-And how does he know all this? God says so. In the Bible.
-When it is pointed out that the Bible's theme is more "Love thy neighbor" and "Judge not lest ye be judged" and not so much "Hate the gays," he reverts to the Plumbing Is Wrong argument.
-And if that failed, he went back to the graphic sex description. He knew what his kill move was.
I'm telling you. It was an experience. My contributions to the discussion consisted mainly of:
-Are you INSANE? That makes NO SENSE!
-Do you have a direct line to God? Is that how you know so much about natural law?
-Being gay is NOT like being an alcoholic!
and
-Are you INSANE? That makes NO SENSE!
The thing is, my grandfather and I are similar in a lot of ways, which is why we're such a terrible combination. We're both convinced that we're right, and that if we talk to someone long enough about something, they'll come around because, you know, we're right. And so we sat there for what felt like forever talking in circles because we each were convinced that we could convince the other to See The Light.
It just, it made my head hurt. I can't stand it when people are so illogical! It bothers me! And, you know, the things he's saying are mean and wrong and I can't bear to hear them coming out of the mouth of someone I love! And it makes no sense! Does he listen to himself talk? And anyway, what business does he have discussing sex in a graphic manner with me? That's just gross! I don't want to hear my grandfather talk about sex! It's just...wrong. And gross. Gross and wrong.
Anyway. That was my evening. I think I'm going to climb in bed and watch my tape of Buffy and try to erase the memory of my grandfather using the words "penis" and "anus" and "sex" from my mind. Sounds like a plan.
