Tic Tac Lady

  It's so beautiful how the simplest things can bring back the essence of a person... How we can pick up an old scarf and suddenly feel its owner in the room, or smell something in the air and immediately be reminded of a certain conversation on a certain day in a certain year long since passed.... I experienced that today in the form of a lovely visit from my grandma Natalie. It started when my friend offered me an orange-flavored tic tac.... And there she was! In full force--beautiful, strong, intense, passionate Brooklyn-raised woman with a no-bullshit attitude, and the most generous and loving disposition I've ever known in a person. She has always been so precious to me. The last few years of her life, which she spent horizontal in a bed being fed mysterious concoctions by my grandpa Morrie, unable to speak or move, were painful beyond belief. This wasn't her... It was a body---a shell enclosing a strong essence of an intelligent REnaissance woman somewhere within, keeping her silent and tortured. Where was she during that time?? Where was that sassy spunk of a woman who never showed an interest in cooking or cleaning, even in the '50's when most women her age had never been through college? The woman who I can thank for teaching me my first four-letter words at a young age, and for giving me a head start in practicing their use in normal conversation? She was there... We knew it. Her spirit had left and, somewhere, was thriving in a state of beauty.  We had to believe that in order to go on. And we knew it was true... We could feel her spirit in the air, even if it no longer showed on her face. I still feel her now.
My sisters and I adored that woman... worshipped her, really. We used to spend every Thanksgiving at their ancient mansion in Evanston, IL. That place scared the hell out of me with its dark corners and creaky hallways... There was even an old broken elevator, which, to this day, I am convinced has a skeleton hanging from the ropes! My sisters and I would go everywhere together... Each trip to the bathroom was a group activity. We got along extra well on those trips; I guess we figured we'd better keep each other around just in case! Natalie loved that house. They never bothered calling any professionals to work on it, even though it was ready to dissolve into a pile of gray stone dust. Why spend the money when Morrie had a tall step ladder and two working legs??
 We'd always explore their refrigerator and find epic, unrecognizable items with expiration dates from the '60's. It was like a treasure hunt every time!  My favorite was the gingerbread house we built in 1989....that same one she pulled out every year to display on their dessert tray until they moved to Oakland in 2003. That thing was an antique. She'd also hold on to the cookies we'd make from the tubes of dough she'd buy on sale at the Jewel. Each year, as we decrorated our current batch, she'd go digging in the freezer for last year's. It wa a good way to see progress in our art skills. Every year they''d look slightly more professional! Morrie would make his 24-hour turkey, which, by the end of the full day, would lose every last drop of moisture and be a choking hazard. (Wouldn't want to leave any excess fat, now would we? Still today, if I eat meat it must be cooked to the state of jerkey. I blame him affectionately for that). One particular day, as we sat and cut our tube of dough, Natalie realized the occupation of the oven by this turkey, and insisted it be removed at once. She did this eloquently as always, exclaiming in her strong Brooklyn accent "Morrie! Get that fucking thing outa there!" Ah, the warm holiday memories of our sweet little grannie!   :)  We'd play hide-and-seek in that scary castle, and she'd always pretend not to see me. I thought it was amazing that she looked straight at me, but somehow, would still say "Huh... Where could that Kira be at!?" I must have been a good hider.
I could go on forever.... I adored her. I do still. She always carried orange tic tacs in her purse.... And she'd hand them out to any child she'd see, stranger or family.
I'm grateful for this sweet little reminder of this heroic woman. She is the spark I carry with me, and the strength I hope to build upon forever.