Today I drove 2 hours to my parents house. My mother was kind enough to host a jewelry party that raises money to rescue women from the sex industry in Thailand. I was so looking forward to the drive to and from my parent’s home because it was sure to be four blissful hours of alone time. That is until they asked me to drive my grandmother home. Sigh. I wanted to say no. I wanted to pout, but I didn’t. She lives near me and it would be senseless to make them drive four hours round trip.
The drive home started out pleasant enough. My grandmother chatters more than my 3 year old and spent the first 45 minutes reminiscing about the cotton mill she worked at as a girl, the first blissful years of marriage after the war and their ultimate move to the big city.
Then the conversation took a turn for the really quite awkward. She threw out some antisemitic criticisms of my stepmother’s family, none of whom she has ever met and all deeply rooted in their catholic faith. She also told me about the time the family huntin’ dog got a hysterectomy and how she slept on the floor with her because she “knowed how much that surgery hurts!”
Then we made a sudden turn into crazy town when she leaned forward and yelled: “Nanny nanny boo boo!!! There are two trucks in front of you!!!”
I nearly ran us off the road! What the??? Apparently a large mac truck was speeding along beside us and had to put on the brakes because there were two other mac trucks in front of us.
Finally, we fell into blissful silence interrupted only occasionally by inane commentary on the towns we were passing through or the condition of the road on which we were driving.
All in all, it wasn’t the peaceful, quiet drive I was hoping for, but it was interesting.