That Grand Thing
My five grandchildren live about 2-1/2 hours away from me in the Washington, DC area. Despite having grown up continents away from my own grandparents when not living in the USA or having been separated by at least four or five states when we lived stateside, I know that physical distance does not have to grow between relatives. I also know that it can. I can’t help but worry that the grandkids won’t know me as they might if I lived nearby. Especially now.
Covid-19 isolation adds to my worry, but my father (their great-grandfather) is not concerned.
“We didn’t have Facetime, Facebook Messenger, and the ability to call without costing an arm and a leg,” he reminds me. So, the few times we have been able to get together this past year, we tried to make it memorable. Quality visits over quantity.
Last summer, we were able to arrange a social distanced pool party and picnic. Parents sat spaced apart outside. The kids ran around the yard. All of them had been isolating, and so had we. While they were here, Dad established the SCC (Secret Candy Club). He introduced the middle grandchild to the candy stash. “Our secret,” he told her. She promptly told her younger cousin. She’s a sharer.
“That’s okay,” Dad said. “You two can keep it secret. Right?”
The kids loved this so much that my grandson asked his mother, “Will PopPop die soon?”
“Everybody dies at some point, but no, PopPop won’t be dying any time soon.”
“If he dies, will the Secret Candy Club end, too?” he asked, clearly a primary concern. His mother assured him that NanNan would probably keep things going.
“Then do you think they could add Skittles and Ice Cream?”
I told Dad, and a few days later, he said, “Take a memo,” and he dictated a “Top Secret Crytpo” message to his two Secret Candy Club agents informing them that there had been a breach in the candy cache by a suspect that looked suspiciously like me. He relayed the new password and a few additional procedures they had to follow. I made it look very official, dropped it in the mail, and forgot about it.
One night my phone vibrated. When I opened the Facetime App, my granddaughter’s face filled the screen. Without saying hello (she is like her great-grandfather in that), she said sternly, “NanNan, why did you break into the candy club candy?” For a moment, I saw disappointment. The kind my mother’s eyes conveyed when I’d done something wrong.
Naturally, I denied everything and reminded her that the suspect only looked like me. There was no proof. I handed her over to Control (my father), who quizzed her on her orders. She whispered the password and went through the motions she’s supposed to follow to open the cache. She’s all set.
We have not heard from the grandson yet. Dad asks, and I let him know that he did get the memo. His mom says that he’s been practicing and keeping the memo in a very safe place.
Today Dad left the house. When he returned, he carried a bag filled with supplies for the SCC. He showed me a bag of Skittles. “We can get the ice cream before they come next time.”
He’ll probably have me send another memo to update the field agents. That will be fine with me.
