I just finished a phone conversation with my grandma Betty. She and my grandpa live in eastern montana, next door to my mother. (Here’s a photo of them dancing at my cousin’s wedding.)
My grandma was telling me about the conflicts arising around my grandpa’s relentless singing. He sings through long car trips, at family get togethers, at work in his yard. He sings loud gospel numbers, with lots of feeling. Now he is singing in restaurants, standing and singing to the people munching fries and spooning pie into their mouths. It drives my mother crazy. I have no idea what it is like to care for your aging parents. My mom gives a lot of herself and has her patience tried in ways I can’t possibly see from this great distance. What I do see, however, is that there is something profoundly brave and joyful, something delightfully inappropriate and unexpected about a 95 year old man rising slowly from his diner chair to serenade a restaurant full of strangers. I love it that my grandpa just can’t stop himself from singing!