Revel in Rivalry

Ah, sibling rivalry. You’d think they’d grow out of with age, but alas, some do not.

Gran and Marge have been inseparable for 84 years. There are seven kids in the family, so when Gran was born, Marge was left in charge of Gran, at least until Gran could talk.

Even when Marge married and left home, Gran followed. Here’s a little info about that:

“Dolores came and lived with me and Ray, and I remember Ray’s aunt asking where Dolores was sleeping, and I said ‘why, with me and Ray!’ They got her a rollaway bed after that! We didn’t think anything of it!”

I only heard that story for the first time a few years ago. I was just as surprised as you are now.

After living together, then living in several different houses in the area, Marge and Gran built their current houses right next to one another. In the mornings, Marge will come down for coffee and visits. The two of them have conversations in their own language, reminiscing, and finishing each other’s sentences and stories.

“I’m Scotch like my mother.”

“I’m just as Scottish as you!”

“She’s like old Grandma Kraus…she used to boss Grandpa Booth—”

“—Who’s Grandma Kraus!?”

Can you tell who is saying what? Yeah, neither can I. They’ve been like this as long as I’ve known them.

One afternoon the three of us walk up to Marge’s house, and Gran starts her usual rant, and I tell her to stop. This has gotten worse with the dementia. Marge speaks over Gran’s tirade. “She’s been telling me what to do all my life” then she winks and gives a little smile as if to say she can handle herself.

Liquored Limes and An Elderly Fashionista

If we were to commission an artist to paint a portrait of Gran, this is what it would look like: Gran sitting as the family matriarch, smiling away with her Budlight limes glistening under the camera light.

We aren’t sure when the limes began or exactly how Gran snagged them, but they have become the focal point of her wardrobe. (I did mention in a previous post that my dad owns a local tavern, so they were likely promotional merchandise he tossed on the counter.) One thing is for sure: whether she is going out to eat or attending church, the limes are on, and she’s raring to go.

What’s so funny about the lime necklace is that she is the #1 supporter of Budlight Lime, yet she has never had a sip. She also is grossly unaware of what she’s advertising. Once she looked down at her jewels:

“Son of a bitch! This says Budlight.” Then as soon as she said this, she forgot about them for a few minutes. This cycle repeated for a while. Now she puts them on automatically without regarding color choice or tact.

And that’s what so great about the limes. They’re so eclectic they’re almost stylish. They literally clash with everything and shock any outfit. Yet they’re a style no one else has duplicated.

One day, after my friend and I watched an old lady with short shorts walk into a grocery store,  my friend stated, “If I’m wearing my watermelons and shorts that are riding up, just put me down like an old mule.”

“Limes, not watermelons.”

“Limes, watermelons; same difference,” she said.

“Ah, oh well. She’s fine,” I said, and I say the same thing now about the limes: if she likes them and they provide her comfort, let her wear them.