A Birthday Eulogy For My Grandmother, Midge

Midge would have turned 88 today. She’d wear her “going out clothes.” The ones she’d save for special occasions. A nice pair of black slacks. A dark blouse with a floral pattern. Black slip-on shoes, size 9. She’d comb and adjust her hair enough to hide the parts that were thinning on the top. She’d wear her gold wedding ring and her brown coat with a flower brooch. She never forgot the brooches. And her purse. She’d have it in her hands, sitting on the couch, waiting for my mom.

We’d go to dinner, somewhere she picked (Hacienda Colorado). She’d get my mom to order for her. She’d also ask for black coffee…at a Tex-Mex restaurant. She didn’t care. Midge did what she wanted.

We’d all be gathered around the table, plunging forks into mounds of food, knives scraping against the plate. Midge would blanket her food in an inch of salt. As the rest of the family cut into their enchiladas and while I made sure none of my foods touched each other, there she’d be, looking around at us, and finally saying, “…I just want to say one thing.”

We all knew what that meant. She watched something on Fox News and wanted to talk about it. Eyes rolled. Some of us grumbled. My blood pressure started to rise.

We never saw eye-to-eye on politics, yet we couldn’t help ourselves but talk about world events.