Antique Shows

I am not sure when my grandmother starting selling antiques, but it was before I was born.  As you can see from the picture I was a member of her support staff from an early age.  Grandma didn't have a shop.  She would go to Antique Shows and would also do estate sales.  Doing a show with Grandma was an adventure.  First she would determine which inventory she thought she could move at the particular show.  She knew she wouldn't be able to get as much money for certain types of glass in certain areas and she also knew what would move best at the show where she was going .  Next, the van would get loaded with the boxes.  The boxes were old poultry boxes.  They were wax covered cardboard.  I didn't realize until I was much older that the boxes actually used to have frozen chickens in them.  Gross.  To make it even better all the glass was wrapped in blue adult diapers.  They were blue plastic on one side and many had been used so many times that the filling balled up in between the layers.  Once again, I did not know these "wraps" had another purpose besides keeping my grandmothers glass safe.  When I found out what they were I was completely freaked out.  First of all the fact that an adult would have to wear a diaper blew my adolescent mind and second that I had handled so many of them.  The boxes were unloaded onto a display that my grandfather developed and built.  The display had three shelves and was covered in alternating blue and white fabric.  The official colors of Heisey Glass.  You couldn't just put things on the shelves, there was an order.  Grandma knew what needed to be where and next to what to catch a potential buyers eye.  Everything had more than one price.  The price that was on it, the price she would sell it to you if you haggled a little with her and the price she would sell it to a dealer.  I can still here Grandma haggling with somebody and saying, well you know I am a dealer.  What is your dealer price?

Working the show was really not very exciting for a kid.  Most of these shows were in high school gymnasiums or convention centers.  We would hit the snack bar and walk around and look at the other antiques.  Grandma was pretty picky about the booths where we could shop.  We would often slowly walk by and hear her mumble "Crap".  We couldn't go in there.  We would walk past another booth and hear her mumble "Asshole".  That guy didn't offer dealer discounts so we couldn't go in there.  Then we would come across one of her buddies and we would be stuck in there forever just shooting the breeze and maybe buying something that she would wrap up, take home, inventory and try and sell at the next show.  In our booth, we were allowed to help wrap purchases.  To this day it pains me to see somebody wrap up something the wrong way.  You had to maximize your diaper and get as much into it as possible. ( I followed this same principle with my children by the way).  Once we reached an age that we could calculate sales tax we were allowed to write the receipts and take the money.  I would sit at the money box and have peoples tickets written up with tax calculated before they could even change their mind.  There were no returns accepted.  I have to say that I think my grandmother was a fair business woman.  I don't think she tried to get more than her glass was really worth.  I honestly don't know if she actually made any money selling glass or not.  I have heard it said that she showed a "loss" every year after she took out her "expenses".  Yes- Johnnie Walker Red was an expense.

At the end of the show Grandma would let me pick out a piece of glass to add to my collection. I still display those little pieces of glass with pride.  They are my first paycheck!

All Skate

People that did not grow up in the '80's cannot possibly imagine the importance of the roller skating rink and the impact that it had on my childhood.  I grew up in Cuyahoga Falls, Ohio.  Not really famous for much except Rex Humbard, but all in all a nice place to live.  We were really lucky, we had access to two roller skating rinks.  Skate 8, the family friendly small rink on State Route  8 and the infinitely cooler Rocky's which I think was in Akron somewhere.  My family frequented Skate 8. Especially on Wednesday nights. Family Night.  We would load up the family in the station, rent our skates and roll around for hours.  Shoot the duck, backwards skate and everyone's favorite, the Limbo.  We would gaze in awe at the girls who had their own skates with the Pom Poms on them.  We would take a break to play a video game and watch our parents skate when they turned down the lights for the couple skate.  I was in pre-adolescent heaven with my feathered hair and Calvin Kleins with my comb in my back pocket.  I got my first bra on a Wednesday.  I know this because I was so excited that I got to wear it to skate that night.  I just knew some hot boy would ask me to a couple skate that night because of my bra.  Didn't happen, but a girl could dream right?  After I got my bra  and I was so mature Skate 8 just didn't seem as cool.  All the cool kids were going to Rocky's.  I heard they even had a light up disco floor.  I begged to go but mom had heard it could get wild.  Mom finally said it was ok to go on a Saturday afternoon.  I was so excited.  I walked in the door.  The music was so loud you could hardly hear yourself think.    I am pretty sure that Pac Man Fever was playing.  The bottom floor was all video games and when you walked up the stairs the dance floor was to the left.  It was much darker at Rocky's and the disco lights were amazing.  Everyone's jeans were much tighter than at Skate 8 and were Jordache.  No Calvin's here.  Couple skates here weren't the holding hands skating slow that I was used to, they were the type that one person skated forward and pushed the other backwards.  Some couples even mastered the heavy petting make out session on wheels technique.  My virgin eyes.  We would practice our dancing during the week so we could show our moves on the dance floor.  There was a dance called The Walk that if you didn't know you just were not cool.  We heard it was even better on a Friday or Saturday night, but alas I was denied by my (I thought) overprotective parents .  Didn't they know I could handle it.  I was wearing a bra for God's sake.  (Thank you by the way Mom And Dad).

I don't know if skating lost it coolness or if we just outgrew it but it seems like we just quit going.  One day we wanted to go every Saturday and then the next we wouldn't be caught dead there.  Maybe it was when our hair got so big that we took up to much room on the dance floor.  Maybe it was when we quit putting our combs in our back pockets.  Like you could run a comb through all that hairspray.  Maybe it was when we actually got the boobs to fill those bras and we weren't comfortable moving too much for fear somebody would notice.  Whenever it was it was a a rite of passage into the scary world of preteen-ness and our world would never be the same.

It better be a girl

My grandmother did not have one of those filters that most people have that prevent them from saying exactly what is on their mind.  (My mother taught me the value of "how nice" at an early age and I will forever be grateful for that). Even though Grandma would tell you exactly how she felt it didn't mean that you couldn't change her mind.  Of course she would never admit that her mind was changed and she would insist that she really agreed you from the beginning.

I will never forget the day that I told her I was expecting my first child.  I called her up and said Grandma, guess what?  I am pregnant.  She was very quiet for a minute and then said, " I am not sure how I feel about this". Now granted I was in no place financially to have a child, but I wasn't quite prepared for that reaction. I said oh well you better get used to the idea.  A couple of days later she calls and says that she has decided that she is ok with me being pregnant, but IT BETTER BE A GIRL!!!!  She even bought girl things to make sure that it would happen.  Soooo, a few months later I call her up after the ultrasound and say "guess what Grandma.  It is going to be a boy'.  Response- "I am not sure how I feel about this' and a couple of weeks of silence.  I might have softened her up a little when I told her that her great-grandson was going to be named after Grandpa.  Instead of William we were giving him the Irish nickname of Liam, but his middle name would be Hunter just like Grandpa.  You'd have thought she wanted a boy from the start.  She was so proud.   She would point to my belly and say that is my great-grandson.  He is named after my husband.  She went on a buying spree like none other.  I think at one point she had bought over 50 stuffed animals from catalogs .  And this was before he was born.

While I was pregnant she was diagnosed with breast cancer.  Her chemo regimen did not allow her to come down for his birth, but I knew she was with me.  She called almost every other day to talk to my baby.  We would put the phone to his ear and he would coo into the phone for her.  It was like he knew how much he meant to her and wanted to let her know he knew.  When I was finally able to take Liam to meet her she took him in her arms and cried.  I had never seen this kind of reaction from her.  Those two were like soul mates.  Liam knew when to crawl up in her lap and cuddle.  He knew when to give her one of those baby smiles that melts your heart.  One of my favorite memories was the two of them in the backseat of the car cackling while she did this little piggy on his toes.  When he was older she would call and he would jabber on the phone to her.  He hadn't even said his first word yet and the two of them would have a five minute conversation.  He didn't do that for anybody but her.  When she came to Bristol to the nursing home he would play in her room.  He wasn't one bit scared of the nursing home or the fact that she was really not looking well.  He really loved her and I think he brought her joy during her final days.  I don't think Liam was old enough to remember her, but I do think he is a better kid because he had her.  I always tell him how much she loved him even though he was supposed to be a girl. I guess it is proof that sometimes what we think we want really isn't what we are supposed to have.

The Fly

Grandma took her own sweet time at everything.  Before the stroke when she would tell a story each sentence was followed by a deliberate long drag off her cigarette.  She would start- Well you know...long drag, inhale, slow exhale... I went to college at Murray State.  ...long drag, inhale, slow exhale...  That was a girls college in Kentucky.  ...long drag, inhale, slow exhale...  You get the point.  She could take an hour or two to finish her morning coffee ritual (instant, coffee rich, one spoonful of sugar).  The morning would start about two hours after Grandpa had been up.  He had most likely fed the birds, fixed a squeak somewhere in the house and was back from Value City by the time she woke up.  She had cataract surgery so until the 90's when she had surgery she had to wear these hideous pink rimmed Coke bottle glasses before she got her contacts in.  She wore dentures and while she would never be seen in public without them being seen by us grandkids didn't bother her.  She would get out of bed, put on the glasses and then put on her robe.  It was Velour and it zipped up.  She would then slowly come down the hall and sit at the speckled counter to have her coffee and cigarette.  She would take a paper towel and fold it in half to use as a coaster, set the coffee on it and light the cigarette.  And then we would wait.  Tiny sip, drag, inhale,exhale, make some comment about how Lou Holtz was a SOB, drag, inhale exhale, sip...  you knew it was going to be a while before she got moving if the cards came out and she lined up a game of solitaire.

Well one morning she took exceptionally long to get up and Grandpa was off doing something.  Ness and I had spent the night there and we were just plain bored.  There were only 5 channels of tv and there was nothing on so we were just bound to get in trouble.  Grandma finally finished the routine and was out in the living room watching tv.  Ness crept into her room and got the robe and the glasses.  She came walking out into the living room with the glasses and the robe on covered up her teeth with her lips and said- Look- THE FLY!!!!!  It didn't help that the movie was one of blockbusters that summer and it really didn't help that Ness looked both like a fly and like Grandma.  Ness got in trouble for the prank and I got in trouble just because it was easier for Grandma to have us all in trouble that to single somebody out.  Being in trouble meant having to sit on separate couches while Grandma went out and smoked another cigarette.  Being in trouble also meant that we had nothing to do but sit and look at each other and plan how we were going to prank her again.  oh yeah- and throw pillows at each other.  SCORE!!!!!

Shopping days

Today  I took Caroline to the Virginia Highlands Festival.  We strolled through the craft show and then picked up some cupcakes at Babycakes which used to be the Starving Artist Cafe.  After eating our cupcakes on the bench outside the shop we went over to the Abingdon Mercantile.  One of my favorite days occurred about twenty years ago in much the same way.  I will get to that in a minute. I need to explain what a day was like was shopping with Grandma.  First, there was no such thing as running out to a store to zip in and zip out.  My mother and I are experts in the 20 minutes shopping trip. We can do more damage in Belk in 20 minutes than most people can do in a couple of hours.  Not Grandma.  First you had to help her get all dolled up.  This meant looking at every new outfit that she had bought since the last time you saw her.  Then you had to pick out jewelry.  Each piece had a story and each outfit had multiple choices.  Before the stroke you had to wait for her to have a smoke every hour or so.  After the stroke you had to wait for her to walk down the hall. Don't get me wrong, the woman could walk fast if she saw a piece of Heisey at a antique shop that she might buy, but she went reeeeaaaalllly slow otherwise.  So you finally made it to the Cadillac, you always had to take her car, and the fun began.  First there would be lunch.  When it was open we would go eat at  the May Company or some other Ladies Lunch hot spot.  When I was little I would always get Shirley Temples.  When I was an adult we would have froo froo drinks.  I don't think people lunch like that any more.  Just taking your time enjoying being away from the men.  After lunch the shopping would begin.  Grandma wanted to touch everything.  Wanted to comment on everything.  If the salesperson was smart they would pay her a little attention and Grandma would buy the whole line.  If it was shoes, she would buy everything in her size.  Before her stroke she wore heels. Always.  Not pumps.  Heels.  In the 70's, Go Go boots.  Yes with hot pants.  I am pretty sure that wearing heels is one of the things that the stroke took away that pissed Grandma off the most.  So anyway, we would shop.  On one trip to Atlanta with my mom we shopped so much that I almost didn't have room to sit in the car.  Hat Boxes take up a whole lot of room you know.  I guess what I am saying is we spent the whole day being with whoever was with us shopping. Sometimes it was my mom, sometimes it was Ness, and sometimes it was just the two of us.  I really really miss those times.  Life now doesn't seem to allow the time for those kind of days that often.  So back to one of my favorite days.  My dear friend Victoria (Torie) got to experience Grandma shopping day firsthand.  We went to the Starving Artist's Cafe for lunch and then over to the Abingdon Mercantile for some shopping. They had P. Buckley Moss prints and she needed a few more ( haha). We then stopped at several shops in Abingdon and ended up at the General Store. When we went to pay for our merchandise the owner said it was all on the house.  He had enjoyed watching the three of us shopping and said he felt the love that we had for each other and just wanted to thank us for making his store a part of our day.  That is what really what shopping days are all about.  Being with people you love and getting away from everyday life.

Everything has a price

My grandmother was an antique dealer.  She specialized in glass, particularly Heisey glass.  Heisey was a fine glass company in Newark, Ohio. They had many patterns of glassware and were known for their glass figurines.  Grandma never did anything halfway and she didn't go halfway with Heisey.   She knew more about Heisey glass than anybody, really. I remember her being on a local news program discussing Heisey.  I would go to the Heisey convention with Grandma and she was the queen of the convention. She got called in to do estate sales where there was a lot of glass.  If you wanted to know if the stuff you found in somebody's yard sale was worth anything you called Grandma.  Her CB handle was the Heisey Lady.  The basement had shelves on all the walls and were filled with glass.  Everything had a little white sticker with Grandma's inventory code and a price.  Very good business practice.  The thing is, it didn't stop at the basement.  Everything in the house was for sale.  It only made sense to decorate the house with beautiful antiques if you were a antique dealer, right?  But most people would probably take the price off.  Having a party at Grandma's?  Somebody get the punch bowl out and get the price tag off so we can use it.   Some of those price tags had been on there so long they were never coming off.  I even found on the other day in my Grandmother Remember's book.  Grandma thought her memories were worth 10.95. I would disagree.  So one day we decided to play a little joke.  We were having a shower or a party for something.  Beautiful party as always.  Punch in the beautiful Heisey punch bowl.  Some of that green pistachio jello pudding and cool whip salad.  Those really yummy butter mints that melt in your mouth.  All served on little disposable plates each with a handwritten price tag lovingly placed on the bottom.   

The 50th Wedding Anniversary

Well this story is a little fuzzy because my dear cousin Vanessa took it as a personal challenge to get a record number of Slow Comfortable Screw cocktail's down my throat, but here is how I remember it.

Let's start with the backstory.  My grandfather had health problems.  I don't know them all, but I know he had half a lung missing and had open heart surgery way before the time that open heart surgery was readily available.   When it came time for the 40th Wedding Anniversary nobody knew how much longer he would be around so we had a big anniversary party for all the friends and family.  By the time the 50th rolled around he didn't want to have a big fuss so we decided to just go out for a nice family dinner.  My family was in Tennessee by then.  I was a Sophomore at the University of Tennessee (GO VOLS!!!!)  We drove up to Lorain for a long weekend of festivities.  We went to White Oaks Restaurant in Westlake.  Very nice restaurant. They never saw us coming.  Let me preface this with my family is generally very well mannered in public.   We all go to nice restaurants often.  We know which fork to use.  We are not the Clampetts.  We probably appeared to the staff to be a nice quiet family out to celebrate a milestone anniversary with the sweet little old couple.   But then Grandpa ordered a  scotch.   I don't remember my grandfather really ever drinking that much.  I had heard that he was the life of the party in his younger days, but I think he kind of went cold turkey when his major health problems started.  Anyway, Grandpa ordered his scotch so we all thought "when in Rome".  The drinks started flowing.  Dinner was served and was great.  The drinks started flowing again.  The jokes started flying.  It is really hard to determine which butter is the open one when they are in little pats on little plates all over the table.  We were having a ball.  We were getting a few looks from people around the restaurant.  We weren't overly obnoxious, but everybody knew we were celebrating something.  Dessert was fabulous and with dessert comes cocktails.  Then it happened.  Jason says- wow Grandpa you are really throwing them back tonight.  Grandpa gives out a woo hoo!  Jason says - Grandpa's gonna have Grandma on her head tonight.  I confusedly look at Jason and say what does that mean.  Grandpa yells out- When you get to be my age you can't get it up anymore so you just turn them over on their their head and plop it in!  Dad promptly says- Check Please!!!!!