April Gran'ma Gertie

Howdy Ya’ll!


It’s me again, Gran’ma Gertie. I been about to laugh myself right out of my rocker! Gran’pa’s been about to break his neck a lookin’ at our neighbor! Ever spring, when the weather gets a little warm, our neighbor comes out of winter hibernation. It’s almost like clock work, and jest about as reliable as groundhog day. When she comes out, it’s officially spring!

Now I cain’t very well say that the weather has to be real warm. Just a few days ago, I was outside piddlin’ with my flow’r pots, wearin’ my brogans, overalls, and flannel shirt. I ain’t the cold natured type, neither. I was quite comfortable. All of a sudden, I heard Gran’pa let out a whoop and a yell comin’ from the widow facing the neighbors house. I knew then that it was spring.

Now I ain’t the jealous type. I always figered that if’n another woman could take that cantankerous ol’ codger, she could have ‘im! I jest don’t think it’s proper fer a grown woman to go paradin’ around with all God gave her in such a little bit of clothes! Why, there ain’t enough material in that bikini thing she wears to make a good hankerchief! You might be able to get enough material to make the waddin’ fer a shotgun shell. It’s a wonder that she ain’t caught p-monia of the belly button.

I reckon she enjoys all the men folk around ridin’ by to get a glimpse. She always seems to wave at ‘em when they go by. You’d be surprised how busy the road is out front of my house come springtime! She is a blessin’ to all the women folk around, though. She’s the only reason we can get the men folk to help us outside! Even Gran’pa thinks he’s slick. He tries to make me believe he’s rakin’ up leaves, but I’ve caught him rakin’ the same patch of grass over and over. The only way he’ll rake anywhere else is to get a better view! And, since she’s our neighbor, guess what man has the most friends in spring?

This ain’t no young teenaged filly I’m talkin’ about, either. She’s married and got a house full of young’uns. She’s pushin’ forty if’n a day. Gran’pa did say she was a “Yonder” woman - the kind that looks better over “yonder” than up close. He says her face is so bad, she’s gotta sneak up on breakfast, and that he’s seen better heads on stray ally cats! I don’t know whether it’s true, or whether he’s jest sayin’ it to make me feel better!

I cain’t figure out what would make a woman dress like that. I may not be no Marilyn Monroe, but I ain’t the worst thing I ever seen. I ain’t ashamed of my looks in no way. I figure the good Lord above made me jest the way he wanted me, and since he don’t make mistakes, I ought’er to be satisfied. Maybe she ain’t satisfied and needs someone to gawk at her to let her know she’s all right. I think they call that self esteem now. I don’t guess she’s got any. Or maybe she thinks she’s better than all right and jest likes to show off.

Seems to me, she ain’t got no common sense, either. If’n I’m gonna go outside and cut the grass around the house, I know that there may be sticks that’s blown down from the trees, or rocks that the gran’young’uns has throwed, or any thing else imaginable in the tall grass. All that stuff has the chance of flyin’ out from under that mower with enough force to knock down a mule. I want me some clothes on! I want my shoes on! I got enough sense to try to protect myself, at least a little bit! Not her though. It’s barefooted and bikini all the way.

What about all the stuff we been readin’ about that skin cancer? All the doctors and scientist have said that the layer around the earth ain’t as good as it used to be, and the sun causes more skin cancer now. Don’t she realize that stuff can kill you! I know there’s lot’s more treatments now than there used to be, but it’s still a stupid chance to take. I ain’t plannin’ on dyin’ just to get looked at by a bunch of gawkin’ ol’ geezers, or a bunch of hormone crazy boys. It just don’t seem worth it to me.

At her age, she must stay on some kind of diet. She ain’t real skinny, but in order for that bikini to keep fittin’, when she’s old enough for the middle aged spread, she’s gotta be eatin’ nothin’ but grass and tuna fish. I ain’t tellin’ you oughta eat like a hog, but if a body eats with some sense, stays busy, and don’t spend all the time jest sittin’ around, the body will be alright. It may not be what a magazine says is perfect, or what would stop traffic on a busy street, but you’ll be jest right.

As fer me, at my age, my body is like a time machine map. Each wrinkle, each gray hair, every single part that has fell from where it used to be. It may not be purdy, but it’s healthy! I’d rather be healthy and not such a looker, than to live on grass and tuna fish, and die early from somethin’ stupid.

I feel so sorry fer our young’uns nowadays. All the people on the magazines, all the big Hollywood people, all the models, and all of the people our young’uns look up to are skinny as a rail. We always read about which one is in the hospital, or goin’ to some fancy doctor, or is losin’ their career ‘cause they ain’t got sense enough to eat. Our young’uns deserve better than that. They all seem to think that if’n they cain’t fit into a certain pair of britches, or wear one of them bikini things, they ain’t right. We ought to let them know differnt. But, until all the ol’ geezers quit starin’, and we keep puttin’ up with Hollywood, the magazines, and the models, ain’t nothin’ gonna change.

Well, I see Gran’pa’s done gone inside. I reckon our neighbor is done fer today. I do hope she’ll be back out tomorrow, though. I need Gran’pa to move the woodpile out by the barn. It’s springtime, you know!


‘Till next time,

Gran’ma Gertie