My grandfather may well have presented a problem for my mother, and perhaps for my father too.Looking back,it seems as though there might have been some tension between the two of them over his being there and,perhaps differences in family values in a larger way too.Certainly I can look back and see how there were things that brought that world my mother didn't wish to know about, or at least have us know about,that world that I call The World Just Beyond, a bit too close for comfort.As long as my grandfather was out of sight,he was to a certain extent out of mind too.But when he was around, there were things he said and did,perhaps that needed explaining, or that stuck out as being different.That kind of explaining was something my mother often chose to opt out of.
The language that came out of my grandfathers mouth when the pie blew up in the oven was not really typical of him, at least not when he was around us children.He didn't swear a lot, but in looking back I realize he was making a real effort to behave himself in that way.Often he got to the point in a sentence where you knew what was coming next, if you had even a slight knowledge of swear words and their use.And I had been educated in that at our babysitters. But then,my grandfather was quite good at editing out the unwanted words on the fly, and replacing them with some euphemism, so we rarely heard the cussing. I've come to think ,though that it was not his normal way of speaking, but he at least had enough respect for my mother to keep his mouth under control.
As far as being around us kids, he really made an effort too.But I don't think he was necessarily well oriented to small children.He would spend some time with us, and even stayed with us at times when our parents were out.But he seemed to be caught in the realities of his adult world such as it was.At times he would go out for a walk with me, and at times both he,my father and I would go.All three generations at once.But that was rare.We walked down to the barber school once together, and we both got a haircut.On the way back,we came to Birchmount street, and I decided to take him on a detour,all the way up to where the school was,then down some of the back streets,almost to Killam Drive.He must have known I'd led him astray, but he went along willingly.Then, when we got home,he went down to the basement room and went to sleep.
Although my grandfather was sometimes left to care for us,he may not have been that attentive all of the time.He was after all an elderly man, and he sometimes needed to rest.Maybe he thought that children should go to sleep in the afternoon but we we were really beyond the point of doing so.But sometimes he would slip off into the new room and doze off.This was not necessarily a problem,because I don't recall that either one of us kids was really high maintenance at this point.We could watch television or play by ourselves for longer periods of time, but it did cause me some concern not having an adult right there and awake.One day my grandfather was dozing on the bed in his room-it had by this point been called his room- when I went downstairs and noticed a strange smell.Noticed would actually have been a bit of an understatement, as this odor was sharp enough to make my eyes sting, and it was something I'd never smelled before.My sister was with me in the basement,and started to cry.I wasn't certain that the odor was anything dangerous, but I knew for certain that I didn't like it, that it didn't really belong in our house.So I went into my grandfathers room and tried to wake him up.This took a bit of doing...much longer than I expected.When he came around I mentioned the smell to him.I was wondering if it were some sort of fire,but I couldn't see any flames or smoke."No",he said"It's turpentine." Somehow he had spilled part of a can of turpentine on the basement floor.He said that it wasn't dangerous,and I believed him.But I just knew that it was unpleasant, something I never wanted to smell again.I didn't really know that enough of it in the air could be dangerous if it was anywhere near the furnace, or near someone smoking.My grandfather smoked all the time.
I';m not certain if any of these little incidents contributed to disagreement between my parents, but they may have.My mother preferred keeping a much tighter reign on her children than what my grandfather provided, and so may have viewed these small things as a lapse of sorts.If that went far enough, I'm certain it must have led to some discussions that I was never privy to at the time.
Quite aside from these small things,there were some things about my grandfather that would have called for explanations, and were likely somewhat bigger issues of longer standing.First there was the issue of just where he lived.I'd never visited my grandfather up to this point at a place that I knew for certain was his place.I knew he lived in or around Springhill, but that's about it.Then, of course was the issue of where he did not live.Specifically, he did not live with my grandmother, and this all begged certain questions, as my other set of grandparents lived under the same roof.It invited certain questions about my grandmother too, and I suppose in the larger sense about the values of my father's side of the family.
Then there was the fact that my grandfather had once or twice made reference to being in jail.The way it sounded would not give the impression that he attached any real stigma to it.But it's very likely my mother, and perhaps even my father did.He also let it be known that he liked to drink rum from time to time.I didn't know precisely what rum was, but thought likely it was something that children were not supposed to know about.While they were building the room, my father and grandfather drank beer together, and I never though this anything other than completely normal. What my mother thought might well have been a different story.
Whether there was any real division in our home regarding my grandfather or not, I was never aware of it.There was never any fighting or arguing between my parents on that matter or any other.In all it was a peaceful time in our home.Sometime between Halloween and Christmas ,my grandfather left, and returned to whatever living arrangements he had before he'd come.Or perhaps he had no real arrangements. It's a bit hard to know for certain.
The language that came out of my grandfathers mouth when the pie blew up in the oven was not really typical of him, at least not when he was around us children.He didn't swear a lot, but in looking back I realize he was making a real effort to behave himself in that way.Often he got to the point in a sentence where you knew what was coming next, if you had even a slight knowledge of swear words and their use.And I had been educated in that at our babysitters. But then,my grandfather was quite good at editing out the unwanted words on the fly, and replacing them with some euphemism, so we rarely heard the cussing. I've come to think ,though that it was not his normal way of speaking, but he at least had enough respect for my mother to keep his mouth under control.
As far as being around us kids, he really made an effort too.But I don't think he was necessarily well oriented to small children.He would spend some time with us, and even stayed with us at times when our parents were out.But he seemed to be caught in the realities of his adult world such as it was.At times he would go out for a walk with me, and at times both he,my father and I would go.All three generations at once.But that was rare.We walked down to the barber school once together, and we both got a haircut.On the way back,we came to Birchmount street, and I decided to take him on a detour,all the way up to where the school was,then down some of the back streets,almost to Killam Drive.He must have known I'd led him astray, but he went along willingly.Then, when we got home,he went down to the basement room and went to sleep.
Although my grandfather was sometimes left to care for us,he may not have been that attentive all of the time.He was after all an elderly man, and he sometimes needed to rest.Maybe he thought that children should go to sleep in the afternoon but we we were really beyond the point of doing so.But sometimes he would slip off into the new room and doze off.This was not necessarily a problem,because I don't recall that either one of us kids was really high maintenance at this point.We could watch television or play by ourselves for longer periods of time, but it did cause me some concern not having an adult right there and awake.One day my grandfather was dozing on the bed in his room-it had by this point been called his room- when I went downstairs and noticed a strange smell.Noticed would actually have been a bit of an understatement, as this odor was sharp enough to make my eyes sting, and it was something I'd never smelled before.My sister was with me in the basement,and started to cry.I wasn't certain that the odor was anything dangerous, but I knew for certain that I didn't like it, that it didn't really belong in our house.So I went into my grandfathers room and tried to wake him up.This took a bit of doing...much longer than I expected.When he came around I mentioned the smell to him.I was wondering if it were some sort of fire,but I couldn't see any flames or smoke."No",he said"It's turpentine." Somehow he had spilled part of a can of turpentine on the basement floor.He said that it wasn't dangerous,and I believed him.But I just knew that it was unpleasant, something I never wanted to smell again.I didn't really know that enough of it in the air could be dangerous if it was anywhere near the furnace, or near someone smoking.My grandfather smoked all the time.
I';m not certain if any of these little incidents contributed to disagreement between my parents, but they may have.My mother preferred keeping a much tighter reign on her children than what my grandfather provided, and so may have viewed these small things as a lapse of sorts.If that went far enough, I'm certain it must have led to some discussions that I was never privy to at the time.
Quite aside from these small things,there were some things about my grandfather that would have called for explanations, and were likely somewhat bigger issues of longer standing.First there was the issue of just where he lived.I'd never visited my grandfather up to this point at a place that I knew for certain was his place.I knew he lived in or around Springhill, but that's about it.Then, of course was the issue of where he did not live.Specifically, he did not live with my grandmother, and this all begged certain questions, as my other set of grandparents lived under the same roof.It invited certain questions about my grandmother too, and I suppose in the larger sense about the values of my father's side of the family.
Then there was the fact that my grandfather had once or twice made reference to being in jail.The way it sounded would not give the impression that he attached any real stigma to it.But it's very likely my mother, and perhaps even my father did.He also let it be known that he liked to drink rum from time to time.I didn't know precisely what rum was, but thought likely it was something that children were not supposed to know about.While they were building the room, my father and grandfather drank beer together, and I never though this anything other than completely normal. What my mother thought might well have been a different story.
Whether there was any real division in our home regarding my grandfather or not, I was never aware of it.There was never any fighting or arguing between my parents on that matter or any other.In all it was a peaceful time in our home.Sometime between Halloween and Christmas ,my grandfather left, and returned to whatever living arrangements he had before he'd come.Or perhaps he had no real arrangements. It's a bit hard to know for certain.
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