She's a Betty: My Gram

Growing up, my weekends were timed by my grandmother's visits.

On Saturday mornings, I was up at the ass-crack o' dawn--watching cartoons huddled on the floor in my Strawberry Shortcake sleeping bag. Sometimes, however, you could find me sitting at the head of the stairs with the dog in my Wonder Woman underoos waiting for my grandmother to arrive.

Once the front door opened, I was downstairs in a flash (if I was in the underoos, I was told to "put some clothes on as I would catch cold." I did so love Wonder Woman). I got a big hug from my grandmother who always smelled like Coty powder and the Windsong I gave her for Christmas--along with the outside cold that lingered on her wool coat.

"Hello, Katzelie, " she'd always say to me, 'let's get down to the nitty gritty."

The "nitty gritty" involved going down to her bedroom and watching her unpack all of her medications, which she kept in a ziplock bag.

Then the fun began--as only fun can begin to a nine-year old: Grandma had been to the Hostess store. Following the unloading of the medications began the unloading of enough treats and sugar to put the most hardened nutrionist into a diabetic coma.

(An aside: Oh--Ding Dong, oh Ho Ho--how I love thee.)

"Are 'they' still alseep?" my grandmother would ask, pointing to my parents' bedroom.

"Yep," I'd respond--thinking about all the ways Gram and I could fill the time.

"Let's play Bunco," Gram suggested--pulling a tablecloth to muffle the sound of the dice.

And so we did--we'd play Bunco, Crazy Eights, Poker...as I got older, we'd sit and talk. We'd play Texas Hold'em or Pinchole or Canasta.

We'd curl up and night and read our books. Grandma would talk about The War (and believe me, there's only one.) or The Depression (where I thought people were sad all the time.)

We'd dance together--my grandmother was a dancer who was fond of reporting: "I was out on Saturday nights, and I danced all 32 dances!" Her outfits hung like whispers in her closet.

The best gift that Gram could have given me was that of The Golden Girls.

"We're watching this," Gram told me one Saturday night, "it has Bea Arthur."

Well, I didn't know who Bea Arthur was, but Gram and I curled up that first Saturday night at 8:30--me resting a pillow on her shoulder--to watch the black-and-white on her nightstand.

And I fell in love. I thought Blanche glamorous and Dorothy smart. I couldn't wait for each episode!

I watched GG all the way towards its series end in 1991.

In 1993, my Ultimate Golden Girl left this world for another--where I know she's not only dancing all 32 dances--but teaching others how to do them--as well as keeping everyone in toothpaste and toilet paper (on sale).

But in introducing me to Dorothy, Blanche, Rose, and Sophia, my grandmother left me a gift--of herself. I have the Girls on Tivo and on DVD--and with one click--I'm right back there with the black-and-white (except now I get the humor). :)

Life has a funny way of working out. When both Estelle Getty and Bea Arthur passed on, I grieved.

I joined FB groups about the Girls--took quizzes about which GG I am: (Dorothy).

And then the funniest thing happened on the way to FaceBook: Betty White has made a resurgence.

Between movies with Sandra Bullock and an utmost-FAB superbowl commercial, our Miss Betty (84-years young) is back!

She has made the talk show rounds and will appear on SNL this Saturday! (You go, girl!)

She has played beer pong on Jimmy Fallon.

Was in the shower on Jay Leno.

And as my grandmother would say: "getting down to the nitty gritty." :)

I Heart You, Betty!

My grandmother would have loved this--we would have laughed with the television turned up high.

Love you Gram!!