If I were to guess, I’d say that if asked who their role model was…. 85% of my girlfriends would mention their grandma. I am no exception to that rule.
Today is my grandma Treva’s birthday. Honestly, I can’t remember how old she’d be. I can’t even remember how long she has been gone… I know it’s been more than 5 years, less than 10.
Treva told me when I was a kid that her name meant “little flower”. UH that’s a lie. It actually means “large village” (thanks google) which is way more fitting, anyway. Treva was a lot of things. She was a bartender, a cook, a waitress, a house cleaner, a house painter, a ditch digger and a single mom of four. She was married 4 times ( which normally I would think isn’t super bragable but I really love that she took shit from no man). She was the anchor in our family. She was a tough lady, a funny lady and a REALLY short lady…. But she was NEVER a little flower, not even once.
She never spoke about anyone she didn’t like, not in front of me anyway.. and it’s not like she held her Ps and Qs. One time she called an ex of mine a pussy because he wouldn’t take a shot of tequila with her… so I know Treva had some trash talking in her. Literally no one was safe. She just didn’t spend her time on things that didn’t matter I guess. Who knows though, maybe she had a gossip bone in her I don’t know about… but this is MY blog so I’ll write what I remember.
She demanded that I stick up for my friend Richard, who happened to by my grandma’s neighbor, because he was bullied when we were kids. When I became a bully, much later, she told me to get my head out of my ass. She made it very clear to me that I wasn’t any better than anyone else. She introduced me “Tales from the Crypt” and dared my to stay up all night when I slept over. She walked me home when I was homesick… and then back to her house when I promised I wouldn’t get homesick again…and then back home when I DID get homesick again. She got me through my first heartbreak. I was 6. She listened to every cry….. that Ren Alsup doesn’t know what he’s missin’ now! She remembered everyone’s birthday and if I forgot, she had a drawer of birthday cards to use. Every once in a while, I would get a card that was CLEARLY for someone else. She just crossed out their name and wrote mine in. She taught me how to ride a 3 wheeler, or at least how to hold on tight while she hauled me around on one. She snuck wine coolers into my dad’s house and hid them in my shower for me and my friend to drink while we were supposed to be chaperoning my little sister’s birthday party. She came over once a week to watch “South Park”.
She wasn’t a crafter or a scrap booker or a knitter. She made a fudge that most people liked but I thought was GOD AWFUL. She drank Pepsi everyday and always smelled like a fryer and pink Extra gum. She always tickled my back when I asked even though I know she hated it. The “DING” noise old pickups make when the key is in the ignition reminds me of her, so does any crude joke. I miss that lady.
Anyway, I was asked why we take a shot on her birthday to remember her. A tequila shot. A Jose Cuervo shot, to be exact. Well, Treva didn’t drink much… not as a nana anyway. But when she did, it was Cuervo, and Cuervo only. I’ve heard stories of her drinking men under the table (she never proved that claim to me, but whatevs). And when she wasn’t drinking it… she was PRETENDING to drink it. When she had enough, she would cheers her shot buyer, and simply toss the booze behind her shoulder and carry on like she was hammered. The woman was genius.
So cheers to you, Grandma. Tonight and every Jan 31st for the rest of my life. Unless I decide I don’t want to anymore….or forget. I love you.
Oh! And I found out that at her funeral that she was married 5 times… not 4. Because she is a LIAR!