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Tattle Tale!

My phone rings. CJM answers. He knows its Papaw but Papaw can't understand him. CJM hands me the phone announcing its Papaw.

Papaw asks "Who've you got over? Who was that?" Tho I'm a bit confused about the first question I answer that was CJM.

Then he says "Connie, Sarah called me a bit ago and she said..."

I let him go on until he was through - asking "Connie" to call "Sarah" and ask "her" some questions for him.

I'm laughing, gut laughter.

He's called me Connie for the last 5 years. He knows who I am. That's okay, Connie's my mom and for the last 5 years she's been Mildred (my Nana). We just answer him and go on.

Except this time he was really thinking he had called my mom. He was tattling on me. About the house we are trying to buy.

I'm snickering so badly. He asks me what's so funny. I say "Papaw, This is Sarah." After him saying he couldn't understand me, and after the fifth time of telling him it was me, he goes "OH! This is Sarah!" I'm bonking my head on the couch at this point.

Then he says to me "Well, can you answer my questions?" Bonking head on couch. I give him his answers and he was like "That's good. That's what I want to do. I will let you know if I can go with you or not." Then he promptly hangs up on me.

I think that maybe he has said Bye to me about 7 times in my whole life. When he's done he's done and he doesn't see the point in saying Bye.

In the last 5 years he's gotten to the point where he will occassionally leave a message on my machine.

That is how I knew something bad was going on with my Nana. He left me a message for the first time ever that day. Not the next message from the paramedic asking I call him threw me as much as the direct message from him.

Stan asks why I would allow and tolerate some of the things he does. I respect him, I do. But its out of love that I allow him some lee way, I tolerate more than I would normally do otherwise. I don't let him bully me, but I let him think he's getting his way on many things, or let him have his way and just don't argue. I even let him crab at me about those things. Because I don't know when the day will come when I don't hear him crabbing any more, I won't hear him crab ever again.

I've had a Papaw for almost 34 years now. Not many people are lucky to have a grandparent live so long in their lives. I had a Nana for 28 years. I just wanted him to live long enough so that my kids would remember who he was. They know their Papaw. They love him. Not as I do, but they do. They will remember him.



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November 2005
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