When I was a little girl and up to and through my growing up I was devotedly in love with my Grandfather. He was pretty much the center of my universe, my go-to person for advice and perspective, and the man that all other men would be measured to. (reason 3,528 why I am single) We went on adventures together in his old brown Pontiac, The Brown Bomber, and we had a silly way of repeating things along the drive. As we pulled out of the carport it was, “And we’re off! In a gale of whale butter!” Followed by both of us chanting, “pa ca ta, pa ca ta, pa ca ta”.
My Grandfather called all female drivers “Gloria” and he had a way of narrating what everyone was doing as he kept his hands firmly on 10 and 12. “Look at that guy in his truck. He’s trying to catch up to that Gloria up there in her tank.” Opera music would be softly dialed in on the radio and I absorbed and adored it all.
Calliope is the contributing editor for Alzheimer's Disease. She writes daily at Creating Motherhood, where is walks the line between taking care of the older generation while creating the next generation. She lives with and cares for her grandmother who has Alzheimer's.