The Day We Lost Grandpa

It was Thanksgiving. I'm sure of this because Sean and Delia were both home for the long weekend. Delia came in the door only a few minutes after Amy and I got home from school. She was wearing that blue and white SUNY Geneseo hoodie that she wears all the time.

"Hey, kids," Delia said to me and Amy. "What's going on at school?"
I proceeded to tell her all about the latest gossip at school. She stared back at me with that blank, expressionless face. I smiled because this little ritual was more fun for me than it was for her.

"Well, that's nice. Hey, Grandpa!" Delia shouted.

"What's that? I can't seem to hear in one ear!" Grandpa shouted back.

"Dad, you haven't been able to hear in that ear since you were a kid!" Mom yelled as she came downstairs. "Delia! It's so great to have you home!" Delia began to tell Mom all about her literature classes and how exciting they were.

"Hi, Sean," I said as my brother came in the front door just before dinner.

"How's the city?"

"Full of jerks. How's the country?"

"Full of morons."

"Sean? Sean who? I don't have a brother," Amy said.

"Thanks a lot, Amy. I missed you too."

Amy grinned, put her headphones back on, and sat down at the dinner table. During dinner Sean told us all about his fascinating Greek classes and his wonderful girlfriend. Then Delia complained because Sean was talking too much and she wanted to tell us all about English literature.

Amy pulled off one headphone and said, "Man, you guys talk a lot about yourselves."

After that everyone stopped talking. All we could hear was the subtle, smacking sound of Grandpa's lips and gums as he tried to chew his food with his four remaining teeth. Amy had the right idea listening to her iPod during dinner.

"Delia! Sean! It's great to see you guys!" Dad said when he got home from work a few hours later. He quickly found the plate of cold food that Mom had left out for him and put it in the microwave.

"Guess what I'm doing at school, Dad!" Delia always followed him around and talked to him about school. She followed him into the TV room, where Dad was turning on an episode of Scrubs that was on Tivo.

"That's nice," he said before she could finish her story. She looked disappointed, but sat down on the couch next to Dad. The TV room is our favorite gathering place. We bond there. We bond over Scrubs, The Office, Seinfeld, and any number of movies. It's the only place where everyone just shuts up and pays attention. Mom only joins us occasionally. I'm not sure what she does. Maybe she cleans the kitchen or does laundry or something.

The next day was Thanksgiving Day. I got up early so I could get a hot shower. After my wonderful shower, I ran downstairs and poured myself a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios. Grandpa had been sitting at his favorite recliner in the living room, and I noticed that he was getting up.

"Do you need something, Grandpa?"

"I just wanna make sure I have shoes to wear outside."

"Well, I can promise you that you do. So why don't you go back to your chair and sit down?"

"I just wanna check!"

After several minutes of that argument, he finally went and sat back down. I pulled out my book and started reading, but I only finished about one page before I heard Sean and Delia running down the stairs, yelling at each other. "I didn't use up the hot water!" Delia said. "It was already gone when I started my shower!"

"Sure it was. And yet you managed to stay in there for twenty minutes anyway!"

"Be quiet, kids! I'm trying to watch the game!" Dad yelled from the TV room.

Thanksgiving was uneventful. We went to Grandma and Grandpa's house, where we ate turkey and avoided talking to our relatives. After that we avoided participating in fun family activities. Mom had to take Grandpa home early because every time he saw someone wearing red he started singing "The Lady in Red." When she told him she was taking him home he said, " Well, if it weren't for bad luck, I'd have no luck at all."

The rest of us watched the Jets, ate some ice cream, then went home. Sean started working on his Greek homework, Dad watched his favorite parts of the game on Tivo, and Amy went to the computer to chat with her friends. I pulled out my book again, but I kept getting distracted by Delia, who was talking to Mom, who was folding Delia's laundry. I had to go up to my room where I could get some peace.

I went back downstairs later that evening to get a snack. I should have stayed in my room. "Mom, we're getting a Christmas tree tomorrow, right?" Amy was asking.

"Of course we are. We've been getting our Christmas tree on the day after Thanksgiving since before you were born. But you have to clean up a space for it."

"It's not like you wouldn't get a tree just because I didn't make room." With this, Amy put her headphones back on and went back to the computer.

Grandpa had probably been in bed for an hour already, but he had gotten up to go to the "warshroom." He must have forgotten that he was sleeping, because he went and sat down in his recliner. "Dad," Mom said, "you need to go back to bed."

"What? Why can't I sleep here?"

"Because you have a bedroom with a perfectly good bed in it." This seemed to be good enough reason for him. He slowly walked back to his bedroom.

I made myself a cold turkey sandwich and sat down between Sean and Delia, who were now watching The Office with Dad. We all went to bed eventually. I was woken up the next morning by the sudden shock of someone pushing on my shoulder.

"Wake up! Come on! We're going to get a tree!" Amy yelled in my ear. Within an hour, we were all piling into the Jeep. Mom came out of the house with Grandpa's arm linked with hers.

"Mom, why even bother bringing Grandpa? He doesn't even know what we're doing!" Delia said.

"Don't talk about your grandpa like that right in front of him!"

"Why not? It's not like he can hear us," I said.

"First of all, it's rude. And second of all, I want to include him in our family," Mom said. She helped Grandpa get into the front seat. When he was all buckled in, we drove down the road to the Christmas tree farm. Dad never came with us because he always had to work at the hospital the day after Thanksgiving.

When we got there, we all got out of the Jeep and dispersed. We always competed to see who could find the best tree. "I found it!" Delia yelled after about ten minutes of searching.

"Are you serious? You think that piece of crap is a tree?" Amy said when everyone found Delia. "I'll show you the tree I found. It's way better than this one."

"There's no way you found a tree better than this one. But I'll go look it if it'll shut you up."

"Why don't we just get a fake tree?" Sean said.

I couldn't believe that he wasn't taking this competition seriously. "No way! We would never get a fake tree! That's ridiculous!"

We eventually decided on Mom's tree. The tree guy tied it to the top of the Jeep, and we left. When we got home, Mom put the tree in the house and decorated it. "You know, this used to be a lot more fun when you guys all helped," she said.

"Not for us," Sean said.

Later that day, Mom asked us all if one of us would get Grandpa to come to the table for dinner.

"Where is he?" I asked.

"What do you mean? Isn't he sitting at his chair?"

"No, he's not there."

"Delia, Sean, Amy, is Grandpa watching TV?"

"No," Delia said, "he's not in here."

Mom ran back to Grandpa's room to see if he'd gone to bed already, but he wasn't there. She ran outside to see if he was sitting in his lawn chair on the front porch, but he wasn't there. "Come on, you guys! Help me look for him!" Mom yelled.

She scared us, so we got our butts off the couch and started looking around the house for him. The bathrooms were all empty. He wasn't in any of the rooms, including the closets. We couldn't find him anywhere in the backyard. Amy even went pretty far into the woods, but he was nowhere to be found.

"What's going on? Where is everybody?" Dad had just gotten home from work.

"Grandpa's missing," I said. "We've looked everywhere, but we can't find him."

Dad joined in the search. We looked through the house and around the yard several times. Finally, Mom called us all together.

"Has anyone seen him since last night?" Mom asked.

"Didn't he go to the Christmas tree farm with us? I remember that you and Delia were arguing about it," Amy said.

A look of bitter realization suddenly appeared on Mom's face. "And he came back with us, right?" she said, already knowing the answer. "Why did you let me bring him with us? What a terrible idea!"

"I think you said you wanted us to include him in the family," Sean said.

We piled into the Jeep once again and drove back to the Christmas tree farm. There was a little house on the edge of the property with a faint light glowing in the window. Mom ran to the door and knocked on it loudly.

"Have you seen a very old man? I think I left my father here!"

"Yes, ma'am, I have," said the man who answered the door. "You know, you shouldn't let him get away from you. He's very confused."

"I know he's confused, he's my Dad! Where is he?"

"Don't worry, he's safe. My wife gave him some hot soup, and he's relaxing in the chair over there."

Mom looked over at Grandpa, who was sitting comfortably in a giant recliner. "Dad, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I just don't know how I got here!" Grandpa said.

I looked at my mom and said, "You might as well tell him, It's not like he'll remember anyway."

So Mom explained to Grandpa the whole story. When she finished he said, "Say, I can't seem to hear too well in one ear. What did you say?" Mom rolled her eyes and helped him out of the chair.

We took Grandpa home and had some supper. Dad told us some of his scary emergency room stories. Then Amy and I finally got to talk about what we were doing at school. I think they were actually listening too. And when everything got quiet, we almost appreciated the noise of food swishing around in Grandpa's mouth. But not enough to stay and listen.

Soon enough, it was time for Delia to go back to Geneseo, and for Sean to go back to NYU. Just as Delia was about to leave, she put her arm around my shoulder as if to give me a hug. "What was that for?" I asked.

"I don't know. I guess I kind of like you," Delia said.

Grandpa looked as confused as ever as Sean and Delia hugged him and said goodbye. I watched my brother and sister as they got in their cars and drove down the driveway. "Mom, I think I'll actually miss them this time."

Sean and Delia came home a few weeks later for Christmas vacation. I greeted Delia at the door when she arrived. "Could you get that bag out of my car?" she asked.

"Sure, I guess so."

Soon after, Sean's car came down the driveway. When he got out, he said, "If you're gonna help Delia, could you get my computer bag for me?"

"Why not."

We brought the stuff inside and set it down in the living room. "You guys, I just cleaned up in here. Can you please take this stuff to your rooms? Mom said.

"Yeah, sure, Mom. We'll do it later," Delia said.

Just then, Amy came downstairs and saw Delia and Sean. She said, "Who are you guys again?"

books v. movies

I love movies; possibly way too much. I love to curl up at the end of the day and pop in a dvd. I love a good adventure and a little true love (The Princess Bride version, not the Made of Honor version). But as one who is far too critical of movies to really like very many of them, I am beginning to realize that they simply don't satisfy me like books do. Many movies, especially those based on books, try to do what books do, but almost never succeed. The way I see it, the magic of books is lost in cinema.

Like I said, I love movies. But they just don't thrill me like books do. The can't string me along for days or weeks, as I slowly learn about the characters, why they act the way they do, and what they think and feel. I become far more attached to books because of the amount of time I spend reading and allowing the story to develop. I become empathetic with the characters. I really want things to turn out well for them. If things don't turn out well for the characters in movies, I'm usually a little disappointed, but then, who really cares? It was only an hour and a half out of my life. Besides, I never expect for anything bad to happen to the good guys at the end; when does that ever happen in a movie? Hm, actually that might be nice for a change...

This is what I think about the Harry Potter movies: never should have happened. The first one was okay, and it even inspired me to read the books. But the rest of them only preserved the details that were necessary to the minor plot of the individual book at the expense of the details that were necessary to the plot of the entire series. This leaves people who have only seen the movies asking questions like, "What the heck?" This disappoints me greatly. The Harry Potter series was one of the best series I have read ever, and I am saddened by what has become of it, especially for those who prefer watching all the movies to reading any of the books.

This leads me to a sad fact of life. Students these days hardly have time to read for pleasure. My pleasure reading greatly decreased about the time I started cross country. Before that I would be reading two or three books at a time, including the ones I was reading for school. But now I am busy reading political science and Spanish books, and I hardly have the time for my own reading. I have recently been reduced to reading my current book, Men at Arms by Terry Pratchett, in my extremely boring chemistry class. Of course, I like to watch a lot of TV. I don't think that's the same as movies. But I could go on for a while about that.
Oh well, I'm done with my ranting for now. Buenas noches.

Courage

I got the idea for this poem from the part of The Silver Chair in which it says, "Crying is all right in its way while it lasts. But you have to stop sooner or later, and then you still have to decide what to do."

My eyes are still red,
itchy, puffy, and tear-filled,
but I feel
better.
The initial pain is gone,
and it’s time for me
to move
to change
to decide what I need to do next.
For although crying has certain
healing qualities,
it in no way resembles
a solution.
Although the worries may
leak out with the tears,
the problem is still there.
And now I must face it.

Rambling Thoughts

I wish I knew what was in their heads.
Are they full of worries, fears, doubts?
Or are they truly as joyful
As they seem on the outside?
It does not seem possible,
Though I guess it could be true.

Could it really be true
That some of those heads
Are filled with ideas of the seemingly impossible?
Or do I alone have these doubts?
Maybe I should let these fears outside
Of my head because I want to be joyful.

Is it possible to feel joyful?
Is joy a real and true
emotion, affected by what happens on the outside?
Or is it something in my head,
that I have to keep despite my doubts?
This could be possible.

And it’s just as possible
For me to leave joyfully
Even though I have disappointments and doubts.
And I think it’s true
That this can help me get ahead,
And can protect my inside when I’m hurt from the outside.

It’s cold outside,
And not just in the air, but possibly
Everywhere, though some of it’s in my head.
How do I, despite this, remain joyful?
Especially when I know the truth
And I still have so many doubts.

They keep telling me, so I doubt
I can control the outside.
But sometimes I still don’t believe that’s true.
Though maybe it really is possible
That I can be joyful.
I’ll have to keep that in my head.

I doubt that I’ll ever see in their heads,
And I truly shouldn’t worry about the outside,
But I’ll remain joyful because that is possible.

To College, A Sestina

There’s nothing better than to go to school

everyone says, “you need an education to make it in life”

it’s all about making money

supporting yourself, because the future is no party

I don’t want to be poor

when I’m no longer a student

Isn’t it great being a student?

three, four, ten more years in school

with all this tuition, how can I not be poor?

I might be in debt for the rest of my life

but at least now I get to (soberly) party

I really wish I had some money!

I need some toothpaste, but I have no money.

Personal hygiene is forgotten when you’re a student

some return and vomit all night after a crazy party

but I stay in and study so I don’t fail out of school

and I stay sober so I can remember life

besides, I don’t have quarters to wash my clothes ‘cause I’m still poor

But then who isn’t poor?

Does anyone in college have money?

Maybe people drink so they can forget the hardships of life

but is life so hard as a student,

protected by the familiarity of school?

It may be hard now, but like I said, the future is no party

I’ve never been to the casino or a drunken party

I’d rather not come back feeling poor-

ly like some of the other kids in school

and I’d rather not go to a place that consumes my money

after all, I am an impoverished student

besides, I have a life

Someday I’ll decide what I want to do in life

but this weekend I’ll just have a movie party

and continue being a directionless student

so what that I’m poor

to have a good time, I don’t need any money

although I guess I do to stay in school

Anyway, life isn’t all about having money

school is a party if we choose to have fun

I’ll always be a poor college student at heart.

Reflecting on the Passage of a Year

This is a poem I wrote for a creative writing class. It's sort of modeled after the Robert Frost poem "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening."

As I walk through the wint’ry cold,
I wonder when it will grow old
And turn into a pleasant spring,
Leaves turn green and buds unfold.

The birds will then begin to sing
And we will see them on the wing.
To summer’s heat the birds will fly
And that will change most everything.

There will appear a bright blue sky,
In which the sun will stay up high.
We’d like this time to just stay near,
But these long days go quickly by.

Fall may bring us change and fear,
But I am always happy here.
In this way passes one more year,
In this way passes one more year.