Hello, Grandma?

So, my grandmother lived in South Beach.  My mother moved her from LA because my mother wanted to make sure that she took care of my Grandma as she grew older. In a sad twist of fate, it was my grandmother who take care of my mother as she grew ill and passed away. Grandma decided to stay, saying she liked living in South Beach, there were all sorts of services dedicated to helping the elderly.  Florida does elderly well.

I live in New York and would try to visit her as often as I could. My Grandma was very hard of hearing, she had a hearing-impaired phone but making myself understood could be tricky, especially if it involved travel plans. I recall the time I said I would be arriving in 3 weeks and she thought I’d be there on Thursday. She was thrilled and asked what I wanted to eat – chicken, steak, fish, all three?  I knew I had to correct her otherwise she’d run out immediately and cook for the next several days.

One time I called her and said, “Hello, Grandma?” “Hello, Darling,” the other end replied.  She started to rattle off questions, with an Eastern European accent which my Grandma didn’t have.  She paused for a moment after asking about Sarah that gave me an opportunity.  “I don’t think you’re my Grandma.” I apologized, she apologized and we hung up.  I had a chuckle – the chances are great that if you call someone with a 305-area code you will get a Grandma.