Grandmother in any other language

I don't know about where you come from, but around here if you are fortunate enough to have a grandbaby, then you will have some sort of moniker to go with the precious bundle. When my daughter was born, my mother told me that she wanted to be called Gami. This statement was made while I was still peering at a black and white blurry image of my darling and trying to imagine that somewhere in my ever-expanding waistline a tiny human being was manifesting herself. Gami, huh? Yes, and Poppy she added for this tiny lima bean sized being to call my stepfather. Okay, sure. I guess somewhere people call grandparents "Grandmother and Grandfather," but not here.

Over the weekend, my Beloved informed me that we had been invited to a distantly related cousin to see her new baby, and we would be leaving late on Sunday afternoon. That's fine. We arrive in an area of our community where decorating your house for Christmas has the competitive feel of reality television. Although it is dark as - well, night- headlights are not necessary because Santas, snowmen, reindeer, chimneys, and one random dreidel light our way to this cousin's home. The two-year old big brother of this brand new baby opens the door, then runs away screaming, "Gigi, GIGI!" Suddenly, a long-lost cousin that I believe I have met at a funeral before pokes her head around the doorframe. With jerky flipping of her wrist, she motions for us to follow her inside. A tiny baby girl is sleeping on one of her shoulders, while on the other a cell phone is perched under her chin.

She is bending down to the shouting child and yell whispering, "Ty, Gigi is talking to Mumu!" Somewhere inside my soul a mental reckoning that in other parts of the country and probably in other parts of the world, other people did not say things like what I had just heard. Gigi is talking to Mumu. It could just as easiliy have been- Memaw is talking to Nini or Mimi is talking to Nanie or Mams is talking to MawMaw. I just know that Queen Elizabeth probably didn't have to whisper to the young princes, "William, ssshhh, NayNay is talking to Mumsy." You just know that didn't happen. The rest of our visit was pretty much uneventful. The baby was beautiful. her big brother is brilliant. Their home is lovely, etc... Nothing struck me quite like Gigi is talking to Mumu, which translates to your grandmother is talking t oyour great-grandmother.

I am blessed in any number of ways, not the least of which is that I am 45 years old and both of my grandmothers are still alive. My maternal grandmother is 85-years-old and my paternal grandmother is 93. We just celebrated her birthday on Pearl Harbor Day. She was in her late twenties when the Hawaiian Islands were attacked and when she remembers that day she says that she was cutting out pictures from magazines to make Christmas cards with when the news began to come on over the radio. She ran down to her mother's home to listen with family to this dreadful news. The next day, my grandfather went to enlist, but he was a bus driver, which wasconsidered an essential position. So... much to my grandmother's relief, he was rejected and told to stay home to continue to drive.

My maternal grandmother is 85. After a somewhat frustrating shopping experience at the mall, I introduced her to the joys of internet shopping. She is completely converted to this new delight. Together, we finished all of her Christmas shopping in a two day visit in front of my computer screen. For the first time in the last few years she is totally satisfied with the gifts she is giving. How could I not love someone so easily pleased?

As you can see I am destined to live a really long time, and probably have a spine the shape of a shepherd's crook. Perhaps, I will be a Nini or a Memaw or whatever. All I know is I am 45 years old and I have a Mimi and a Grandmommy and I don't care who hears me say it. they are adorable and I am just about the luckiest person I know because of them, and because of the children that made them great grandmothers.