My grandmother on my fathers side was a remarkable lady. She was smart, sarcastic, witty and no-nonsense. She smoked like a chimney and drank gallons of coca cola and shopped on the Shopping Network like she had to keep them afloat. Every time I saw her, she told me how special I was, that “there is just something about you, Kerry Adams”.
I lost her when I was young, about 13 years old, but I’ll never forget all of the things that she taught me. She taught me that I was destined for greatness, that she could tell I was supposed to have been royalty because of my “Aristocratic feet”. She taught me (by example) how to tell people off in such a way that not only do they never offend you again, but they thank you for the experience. She also taught me never to settle for anything but the best. To hold myself and the people I spend time with to the highest standards.
When she passed away, Grandma left a box of books for my Dad to give to me “at the appropriate time”. My Dad (understandably) didn’t think to check the content of these books, only the size of the books before deciding to give them to me. I was 13, so I was old enough to read some mysteries and a biography of princess Diana, right?
The box contained a very diverse collection of tawdry, bodice-ripping romance novels. Not just your average harlequin romances, either. The hard stuff.
Obviously, I devoured those novels like you might expect a 13-year-old would devour what was essentially written pornography. I learned everything I know from those books. This might sound sad, but it was better than learning about sex from my Pentecostal “I’ll tell you when you’re married” mother 🙂
Leaving those books for her granddaughter was exactly the kind of thing that Grandma would do. I like to think that it wasn’t an accident, that maybe it was another lesson. Never accept less than the most exciting, romantic and passionate love. Know what you want before someone tries to sell you on something you don’t.
And always take care of those aristocratic feet.