Let me start by saying that I love my Grammy. No, it's not an award for being a stellar musician (although that would be nice too). Nope, this is better. She's my best friend and kindred spirit. And I adore her. Occassionally, I get frustrated when I have to go and reset the remote control 75 gazillllllion times in one week. Tuesday was no exception. So, a little frustrated, I drove over and promptly fixed her remote, tidied up her place, found her blankie, got her a drink and a snack, clipped her fingernails, told her politely that "no, I don't do other people's toenails" and then sat to visit for a minute.
And I am so glad that I did.
Occassionally, there are moments in one's life where you experience something so incredible that you vow to remember it for the rest of your life. That was Tuesday. Here's how the conversation went:
Grammy: Dolly, I need a favor.
Me: Anything. What's up?
Grammy: Well, I can't remember something and I thought about it all night long and it just makes me mad that I can't remember.
Me: Okay....what is it?
Grammy: Well, you know that song? Give Said the Little Stream?
Grammy: I can't remember how the stream got down the hill. Can you sing it to me?
Me: Sure...the stream hurried down the hill. (and then I sing...awkwardly)
This sets off a whole chain of events. She starts with "Give Said the Little Stream", moved on to "Jesus Wants me for a Sunbeam", "Little Purple Pansies", " I Have Two Little Hands" and finished it off with "Bill Grogan's Goat".
By most musical standards that I normally adhere strictly to, my Grammy never was and never will be a Barbara Stresiand, Liza Minelli or Rosemary Clooney. But If I am being completely honest, I love that little, gravelly voice more than anything in the world, even if she can't remember all the words.
I am reminded daily how lucky I am to live so close and to be able to spend this time with her. I would not be the person or the musician that I am without her.
So, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to sing Bill Grogan's Goat to my cats.