grandma's dress
(Tuesday the 13th)
My aunt’s a little nuts. Her nuttiness is usually restricted to well-meaning but ridiculously impractical gifts: a cheapo disposable camera for a person who’s really into photography, a stack of heavy porcelain cat plates for a person who lives abroad and has to travel light. She bought a light, in fact, for the buka, without considering that, unless it’s plugged into a firetrap adapter, it can’t be used here in Greece.
She outdid herself this time. First of all, she sent me a box back in October, an “early birthday” box that was supposed to arrive in plenty of time for my birthday in November. The box arrived last week. She had sent it “economy post,” whatever that means, and had been holding a grudge against me for all these months, because, as she told my dad, our hapless go-between, I had never sent her a thank-you note. I didn’t even know about the package, til my dad asked if I had written the darn note. Of course not.
Well, like I said, I got the box. In it was a tacky “birthstone” picture frame, a tacky “birthstone” pin, a fluffy mama chicken + baby chicken for the buka, and a bag of old and mildewed clothes that belonged to my grandma Thelma. “I’ve kept them twelve years -- since she died -- and I thought it was time to pass them on,” wrote my aunt. “P.S. Mother sewed her dress herself on that machine in the back bedroom.”
That’s nice, but what am I supposed to do with it? A dress like that has never been in fashion. It’s as big as a house and coming apart at the seams, besides the fact that, well, you don’t have to be very superstitious at all to feel superstitious about wearing a dead person’s clothes. “Don’t let the mil find out you’ve got that,” I was warned. I think I’m with the mil on this one.
My aunt’s a little nuts. Her nuttiness is usually restricted to well-meaning but ridiculously impractical gifts: a cheapo disposable camera for a person who’s really into photography, a stack of heavy porcelain cat plates for a person who lives abroad and has to travel light. She bought a light, in fact, for the buka, without considering that, unless it’s plugged into a firetrap adapter, it can’t be used here in Greece.
She outdid herself this time. First of all, she sent me a box back in October, an “early birthday” box that was supposed to arrive in plenty of time for my birthday in November. The box arrived last week. She had sent it “economy post,” whatever that means, and had been holding a grudge against me for all these months, because, as she told my dad, our hapless go-between, I had never sent her a thank-you note. I didn’t even know about the package, til my dad asked if I had written the darn note. Of course not.
Well, like I said, I got the box. In it was a tacky “birthstone” picture frame, a tacky “birthstone” pin, a fluffy mama chicken + baby chicken for the buka, and a bag of old and mildewed clothes that belonged to my grandma Thelma. “I’ve kept them twelve years -- since she died -- and I thought it was time to pass them on,” wrote my aunt. “P.S. Mother sewed her dress herself on that machine in the back bedroom.”
That’s nice, but what am I supposed to do with it? A dress like that has never been in fashion. It’s as big as a house and coming apart at the seams, besides the fact that, well, you don’t have to be very superstitious at all to feel superstitious about wearing a dead person’s clothes. “Don’t let the mil find out you’ve got that,” I was warned. I think I’m with the mil on this one.
posted by soap at
9:53 AM
2 Comments:
and I am with you on this one. now you own one more thing to keep safe and pass on that no one really wants. anyway, bless the aunt
I was once given a dead uncle's pair of shoes. They were offered to me by his wife only weeks after he died, so I just couldn't say "wow... thanks, but no thanks!", so I took them.
Why don't you just give the dress to the mil?
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home