The Grandmother Diaries: I Opened the Box

I finally jumped into Pandora’s box.  I pulled out a handful of Gran’s journals today.  I’m starting with 1987 – as it seems to be the earliest I found.   Just the first page brings back memories.  It's yellow, curled a little and smells faintly of cigarettes.  She lists the times of her favorite  TV shows – Jack Benny, Hollywood Squares, Barney Miller, Lucy.  I remember watching them with her, she on her green fuzzy swivel chair with the table and lamp beside it.  A half chewed pencil, a crossword book and an overfilled ashtray.  I sat on the brown shag carpet, watching with her and sniggering as she shouted her version of explosives at the screen during the game shows. (Her version because she was a lady. And ladies don't use bad language.)

She would have been retired for a few years by this point - spending her days doing crosswords, having lunch with her lady friends, watching TV and going bowling with the league.  We spent a bit of time with her - we were older by this point and likely able to spend time on our own at home, but for the longer periods Gran's was where we went.

Pandora's Box

In my basement, there is a box filled with a mystery.  It's one I haven't been able to examine in any great detail. Actually, it's not hampered by my ability.  I haven't been willing to open the box.  I had a quick peek when it came into my possession.  At the time, I was already going through an emotional roller coaster - and the box promised more ups...and a lot more downs.

Pandora didn't give me the box.

I came into its possession when my father had my grandmother put on a home.