My Wild and Wonderful Grandma
Now, when I tell you I got to have yet another great conversation with a family member over my latest domestic disturbance, you will, as I would, think to yourself that I have told the whole county.
What I would tell you in my defense is that when you have three kids, you can’t just not come home (or pull a reasonable bluff) without a little help.
Which is where my amazing, caring, bossy, no-nonsense grandma comes into play.
She had my kids for the day. I gave her enough details on the phone to get an overnight extension. During this conversation, she did a great job of calming me down, minimizing the infractions as I saw them, and helping me to find perspective when all I felt was stupid.
But when I went to pick the kids up this morning, and she had had a little time to think about things, she had stories for me. Again, it seems there are more wives that at least come close enough to this territory to see the horrible border than don’t. It’s just that most of you don’t run your mouth as much as I do.
My grandma told me she found herself well within the enemy lines of infidelity courtesy of her second (family legend has it this was her third, but no admissions from the matriarch) husband. The ‘other woman,’ along with her mother, rang my grandma’s door to let her know she had just as well divorce her high-powered phone-company-executive husband sooner than later, because said husband was fixing to pull the switch eventually anyway. (Clearly it wasn’t soon enough to satisfy either Miss Antsy Pants or her mother…thus the tacky, classless visit.)
My grandma, who always and maddeningly councils reason and cheek-turning, called ol’ Bob up at work and told him all of the expensive business suits in his closet would be the foundation for a hellacious bonfire if he wasn’t home immediately to make an accounting of himself. I’m not sure why she changed tactics, but in the very short time it took Bob to get home, all of his expensive suit pants had been turned into shorts.
Grandma was furious, wounded, etc. But she also had no income of her own and two school-age daughters. I’m not sure if she knew it at this point, but she was soon to have her first granddaughter, as well.
They lived in a tiny little town. She went to a neighboring, slightly less tiny, town to get advice from a judge.
“It’s not illegal if you don’t have a case pending.”
She laid out all of the sordid details and the judge told her to go back, smile, play nice, and get all of the financial information she could until she was ready to fight back hard and smart.
So she did. She lived that way for two months. She found records of bonuses, hidden assets and other things a squirrel is known to squirrel away in such situations.
Bob lawyered up to the hilt, using the phone company’s Indianapolis attorney. I’m not sure what kind of attorney grandma could afford, but I know cash flow for day-to-day necessities was problematic due to Bob’s trips overseas, his airplane, and the upkeep necessary to keep a stable of mistresses.
When it came time to put her plan into place, guess what little country town judge they got?
Grandma got child support, alimony, her ’69 Camaro AND the judge ordered ol’ Bob to reimburse Grandma for a mink stole that he had at first given to her and then taken back, only to give to yet another lady. Bob was cleaned out, high-powered attorney notwithstanding.
Our stories aren’t apples to apples by any means. But I’m glad to know my forgiving, loving, cheek turning grandma is capable of cutting up some Italian cloth. And I’m proud of her for figuring a way around when the man who thought he was in control blocked the way through.
Grandma was reminding me not to let my pain make me helpless. Yet another reason to love this lady.
