I Have Turned out Like My Grandfather

"I have turned out like my grandfather" I said to the man whitewashing the graffiti on Rite Glass building this morning. "One has to turn out like somebody" he said.
"But in a good way." I said. "He knew everyone and had a little fans and motors shop off Canal Street on the lower east side of New York. People called him the Mayor. He even took the bums out for breakfast. 'They need a good meal, once in a while', he'd say." "That's true, they do!" The Rite Glass man said.

My grandmother was the same way. All children were god's children no matter who the parents were. When we'd ride the subway into the city or out to Brighton Beach and Coney Island she would always engage with a child and parent sitting near us on the train. It never mattered what color or what shape or how rich or poor they were. This stuck with me because that was not how my mother and father behaved at all. They would cut someone off forever for putting up a clothes line, turning down an invitation, or cutting down a tree. We grew up walking on eggs and they were not hard-cooked eggs either.

When I was 12 I drew a picture of myself aged to be an old lady. I drew my profile from a photograph of me with wrinkles and my hair in a bun. I couldn't wait to be an old woman like Aunty Em from the Wizard of Oz. Yesterday I glanced in the mirror on my way out with Lily and there she was. I am an old lady that I couldn't wait to be. I am finally her with bun and all. But I am not zaftig and grouchy and wearing a potato sack house dress like Auntie Em. My hair is silver wavy and rapidly turning white. My face grows lots of black hair. I consider it fur, it forms a mustache and beard. I bleach it every three weeks so when I look in the mirror I don't see a vandalized billboard.