Memory Monday: Grandma got run over by a ...... Cadillac

Today, I'm trying something new. No. It's not mustard or mayo. Or sushi. Or brain tacos. Or smoking. Or - I'll quit now.

It's Monday's. Monday's are getting a face lift around here.

I'll to be taking a walk down memory lane and I invite you to join me. Memory Monday. These are the memories that I want to share with you & get a hard copy of to hold onto for when I inevitably end up walking down the other lane: Dementia Alley- memory lane's nemesis. Plus, I'm kindof a big fan of alliterations. Ever since I learned about them in the 8th grade, I've wanted to use them. So here's my chance.

Today, I would like to introduce you to my Grandma Elsie & share one of my favorite memories of her & I together. She was a riot when she was alive (especially in her later years when she was plagued with dementia {of course}), although at the time I didn't think some of the things she did were funny, as I look back I realize what a gem she was. And as I've gotten older, I've also realized that I'm a lot like her. I inherited her droopy Scandinavian eyes, we're both opinionated, feisty, & friendly. Oh, & we're both crazy - slightly.

She lived next door to us. I loved growing up close to my grandma {except for when I became a teenager & this boy ...... never mind} especially because she had cable t.v. & a spare angel food cake on the counter just waiting for me to eat.

Grandma also had this big 'ol dark Cadillac. She loved Cadillac's and always had one. I loved riding in that car - it was so big, for a long time I thought it was a limo, but my favorite thing about it was in the front seat there was an armrest that would fold down and she would let us sit on it. We all fought over who got to sit there, because when you did you were up so high that you could see everything out of the windshield - like you were the driver. Cheap thrills, but hey, it was 1980.


This one day when I was 5, Grandma was watching my little sister, Sara, and I. We had gone somewhere, like I can remember where - that is the dementia kicking in - and we were just returning back to Grandma's house, me in the front, Sara in the back. So, there I was sitting up high on my armrest slash throne while Grandma got out of the car to open the garage door {I know, weird huh? I can totally remember the old days before garage door openers - can you?} and she left the car running.

It was at that moment that I saw the potential in the long shiny gear shifter with the cool black, knobby thing on the end of it. I was sitting right next to it, it was practically in my face screaming at me to touch it. What 5 year old can resist a shiny stick that makes a car move? I reached forward and touched that big, shiny, metal, powerful stick and then I started to pull. I pushed and pulled with all of my might until finally it moved.


The stick moved.

And so did the car.

We slowly began to roll forward. Me on my throne and my little sister in the back who was smart enough to realize that this shouldn't be happening as she started to cry. It was then that I realized I had made a BIG NO NO. The car wouldn't stop. It kept moving forward & picking up speed & then it started into a sharp turn, maybe because I was pulling on the steering wheel, which put it on course for the neighbor's house. Gasp! I was too scared and frozen to make any kind of sound or movement, which was okay because by then my sister was screaming her head off. I won't ever forget the look on Grandma's face when I saw her out the windshield. I was expecting to see a really mad grandma with smoke shooting out of her ears and instead all I saw was terror and a moment of paralyzing fear sweep across her face before she snapped out of it and jumped into action.

This feisty, almost 70 year old lady literally jumped into action as she tried to jump into the car. It wasn't to be. She got knocked down, her hands shredded & bloodied and her legs run over. It was at this point that, as a 5 year old, I remember feeling like I was in a dream world and none of this was real. We were still headed for the neighbor's house getting closer by the second, my grandma was on the ground desperately trying to get up but not able to make her legs do what she wanted, when it happened.

He appeared.

This strange, long-haired, random man showed up, jumped into the car and stopped it. As simple as that. He smiled at me and then got out and quickly helped my grandma up & stuck around long enough to make sure she wasn't seriously hurt. Then he simply left, he disappeared as quickly as he came.

My guardian angel.

Grandma Elsie and my family didn't share the same religion or beliefs on certain subjects, but she is the one who taught me to believe in guardian angels. She was the first one to call him that and she never doubted that that is what he was and that he was sent there that day to save my sister and me.

I loved that about her. I have always been comforted by her simple faith. I also loved that she wasn't mad at me & never developed smoking ears, and she forgave me as she seemed to instinctively know that I needed to hear those words even though I wasn't apologizing.

I was a big liar too & not even her forgiveness got me to confess, even though I really needed to hear it from her. Later on that day as my family was gathered together and Grandma Elsie & my parents were re-hashing the event over and over again trying to figure out what went wrong & who it was that stopped to help us and trying to get every last detail squeezed out of the story, I was hiding in the bathroom. I wouldn't come out for a long time and I definitely would NOT admit what I had done. As far as I was concerned the car just started going all by itself. They knew what I did & I knew that they knew, but I just couldn't say it out loud. I lied. And at 5 I knew I was lying, but somehow I knew it would be worse to tell the truth, like if I did it would suddenly become real. It was years before I admitted what I did.

So now, at Christmas-time whenever I hear the song, Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer, I fondly think back on my experience of running over my grandma with a Cadillac. I also reflect on what it taught me - that my parents weren't stupid, injuries can cause arthritis (she developed it in her knees after that) & guardian angels are all around us.

By the way, thanks to me the fighting over the throne in the Cadillac came to an abrupt end since none of us ever got to sit on it again.