The Power of Memories. The Kelvinator!
My grandfather was quite the character. He was not a good husband. He was not a good father to his one child, my dad. He was not a good employee or businessman. He was however a really fabulous grandfather. Indeed, he was the perfect grandfather. He delighted in his four grandchildren, and to him we could do no wrong. We were perfect.
Well, what more can one ask of a grandfather?
My grandmother however was quite the opposite. She was forever focused on our many sins. I recall countless nights when we were all sent to bed for some misdeed. However, once in bed we but only had to count count the minutes…five minutes, ten minutes, perhaps fifteen minutes…before grandfather would quietly open the door, slide his smiling face into the sliver of light from the hall, then slowly bring his arm into the light, and wag one finger in the universal Follow Me signal. We would all beam with delight.
This nocturnal ritual was both well-established and beloved.
You see, Gerry would retire to bed right after putting her wicked grandchildren to bed. Then Tom would carefully wait until her bedroom light went off. He waited a bit more, then QUIETLY opened our door.
With the wave of his finger, we quietly crept out of bed, followed Tom down the dark stairs, through the dark living room, and into the dark kitchen.
“Shhhhhhh!” he would intone, but none too severely. He then flicked on the dim bulb lighting up the stove top, and we would carefully, quietly, pull out the chairs around the dinette set, and sit.
Then came the moment. THE moment.
Tom would open the Kelvinator….
Looking back, I now assume that Gerry was well aware of this ritual. Right? Did Gerry and Tom conspire to create this Good Cop/Bad Cop routine?
My grandparent’s sold their house on Vassar Drive in 1969, and I never saw it, or the Kelvinator, again.
When I was eighteen my grandfather died. I never told him how much I adored him.
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