MORNINGS WITH GRANDMA SMITH

Every morning was a re-run of the one before. Out of my comfy bed at what I now know was 5:30 AM, dress in the uniform of the day for a preschool country kid, and go off to Grandma’s by 6:00. Mom and Dad both worked in Binghamton, and that seemed like a long way off to me. I know Mom had to be dropped off first and then my Dad had to be at his job by 7:00 AM. Mom’s job at Rosen Brothers Bag Co. didn’t start until 7:00 either, but she would have to kill the time between being delivered for the day, and when the work day started. For her brilliant mind sewing bags all day was boring and strenuous, but my I never heard my mother complain. My dad worked for New York State Department of Public Works as a truck driver. That was likely no picnic either, but combined with mom’s paycheck it put shoes on all eight Winfield children. When school began we each had 2 new outfits, sneakers, shoes, and boots for when the snow flew. I was the youngest child, and had to wear a lot of hand-me-down clothing including boots. I frequently had to “grow into them” for the entire season. They were always junk before my feet caught up.

Life at Granny Smith’s, however, was always exciting and new. Even rainy days were bright, cheerful, and filled with fun. I’d spend all day playing in the hayloft, eating apples off the trees in the orchards, or just rolling down the sloped lawn to lie in the grass and watch puffy white clouds float lazily across the azure sky. Winters I would ride my sled on the lawn or build snowmen in the back yard. It was all light and cheerful at Grandma's. Gran was never grouchy or angry, no matter what I did. The best part was that my sister wasn’t allowed to beat me at our Granny's. For safety sake, I stayed at Grandma’s side as much as possible.

As I stated, the day began at Grandma’s house about 6 AM. By 6:30 there would be fresh hot pancakes on the kitchen table. Steaming, they'd be heavily laden with butter and all the sugar or syrup I wanted. Granny would fry up bacon or sausage, and usually there would be fried potatoes on the side. I could have as many tall cold glasses of milk as I wanted, to flush it all down. Let me tell you. If you haven’t had hot pancakes with lots of butter and maple sugar on them, you haven’t lived.

After breakfast, during the clean up, Granny Smith requested payment for her services. While she scraped and washed the breakfast dishes, I was expected to sing. I had to sing loud to be heard by a woman in her late seventies who was also listening to the morning news from a Philco radio perched on a corner shelf above the kitchen table.

I knew all the songs. My young brain absorbed the words and music by listening to the ever present radio programs in Granny’s kitchen and the Motorola console radio in my living room at home. At home we later had a small black and white TV and once a week I could see and hear the top ten songs being sung by the performers on “Your Hit Parade”. I remember “Snooky” Lansen, Gizelle McKenzie, and Dorthy Collins, performing weekly. There was another regular male vocalist but I can’t recall his name.

Every morning I’d have to serenade Grandma while she worked around the kitchen. Sometimes she’d be working there half the morning, caning fruit or vegetables, and I’d still have to keep singing. The concert would be over when the day time soap operas came on the radio. It would be The Many Loves of Helen Trent, Guiding Light, or some other current drama capturing my Grandma’s attention. I needed to listen very carefully because I’d be live DVR (digital voice recorder). If she missed a word or a sound effect, I’d have to replay it for her verbatim. I was proud of my ability to remember all the dialogue long enough to keep Grandma current, and my sound effect repertoire was extensive.

I got more than I knew at the time, from my years of mornings in Grandma Smith’s kitchen. I learned to listen carefully and be able to recall what I’d heard. I even learned to carry a tune. That ability served me well in school. It helped me to be instrumental in starting a “Boy’s Chorus” in Sixth Grade. Later I brought in male voices to create the first “Mixed Chorus” in my high school. I sang in community choruses for many years, and could always hit the right notes. Decades later, I can still accurately recall the lyrics to hundreds of songs.

The greatest things I got from those preschool years and the summer months of early grade school, were more precious and irreplaceable than any talents I may have developed. The very best part of all those mornings and days with Grandma Smith was just spending time with her. I got to know her and love her while she gave me more love than I ever have, or likely ever will, receive from another person. I didn't have to share her time and attention with seven siblings. Most of the time it was just Grandma Smith and me.

Burning Need

Man! Sun's hot today! Blindin'. Couldn't find the RayBans under the trash. Ought ta clean up. Maybe when I get back. Prob'ly right where I left 'em.

Downtown's all nasty. Somebody ought ta clean this place up, too. I need ta score fast 'n beat feet.

“Where ya been, Billy? Ain't seen ya 'round fer awhile.” Keep walkin', dude.

That explains it. Billy's been inside. Jail don't let ya hang out downtown too much. Three hots 'n a cot's all ya got.

“Hey, Zoe! How's it hangin', girl?” Whoa! She looks like the hind legs ah hard luck. Man, turnin' 23 was hard on that chic! Prob'ly all that strippin' and shit.

Ah, there's the place! Get it and get outta here before I'm covered wid all this crap. It's like the air's full'a 'tude down here.

People even walkin' funny. They in the street! Dude told me there's cracks in the sidewalk and ya'll turn an ankle. I ain't seen no craters. Seems like a car'd do ya more damage. Assertin' a little power, I'd say.

Can't believe Mel's didn't have any. This is bull shit! Used to be you'd score anywhere. Some days just ain't worth getting' up.

Couple more tries before I chuck it.

Sixteen blocks to the 'Meat Emporium'. Word on the street they got a new load.

“What the hell! I'm 2 minutes late? That's bogus, Wally! You just screwin' wid me 'cause I borrowed some from yer sister!”

She was just wastin' it. Man! That skanky ho'd never use that stuff. She just keepin' it 'way from us what really needs it.

Two hours, seventeen minutes! Still nothin'. Maybe Joby's got a little tucked away.

Ten blocks, and Joby's “out!” What's this? It's a conspiracy! They all lookin' at me from roofs n cellar windows and laughin' their asses off! I'll fix 'em. Next time I'm fat, they kin all piss up a rope. “Ain't got any an ain't heard ah any.” That's what I'm sayin'. Some friends. Friends don't do ya like that!

“Yo! Homey!” It's a guy in a clown suit. “Look like ya seriously hurtin'.”

“Sho am. Been all over town tryin' to score. Nobody's got any. Costs too much, they say.”

“I got one little piece left, Mac. It's real dark. 'Bout 90% pure. It'll cost ya, big time.”

“That you, Joby?”

“Hell no! Who the hell's Joby?

“Sorry. I just thought.... well.... Joby knows my name's Mac.”

“Just sayin', fool. Like Buddy, Bud, Pal”. Ya buyin' or not?”

“How much? I'm a little light, dude. Check comes Wednesday.”

“Special today. One time deal. Gimme ten.”

“Deal! Here. Six ones.... and that's sixteen quarters.”

“Yo! How'd ya figger I'm Pal?”

“Lucky guess. Now, gimme that friggin' chocolate!”