Not To Worry

I come from a family of worriers. Sometimes when my phone rings, and I answer, “Hello,” my Aunt Ruth will say, “What’s wrong?” At that point, I didn’t know anything was wrong, but I start to worry that maybe something should be. 

Recently, when I took a trip to Buffalo, New York to visit her, I said, “Aunt Ruth, you look remarkable at 96 years of age.” She put a finger to her lips, pointed heavenward and whispered, “Don’t remind him.” Aunt Ruth frets about everything. She worries that on one hand there isn’t enough food in the house for company, and on the other hand there’s too much food in the refrigerator for her to finish.  I worry that she is growing penicillin, when I discover a container of molding cranberries that are left over from Thanksgiving---and it’s the middle of June. 

I once complimented her on the fact that I never sensed that she favored any one of her four children, and she replied, “That’s because I am mad at all of them equally.” She has a devoted family, and all of them are at her beck and call, and call she does---repeatedly---to remind them of what she reminded them of 10 minutes before. They take it with relatively good humor when she innocently claims, “I’m just a little old woman.” 

She scoots around her house with a walker, but doesn’t drive anymore, so her grandchildren take her anywhere she wants to go. Friday is beauty parlor day and neither rain, nor snow, nor sleet, nor hail shall keep her from that appointed round. As you might have heard, it occasionally snows in Buffalo. In the midst of a blizzard, Aunt Ruth needed to get her hair done. After all, it was Friday. So, one of her grandsons took her. When they returned home, a snowplow had cleared the street, creating a mountain of snow along the curb. “How, can I get out?” she wailed. “No problem,” said her buff grandson. He came around to her side of the car, opened the door and hoisted her over the snow bank. She arrived home, nary a hair out of place. Another grandson created the mantra, “Don’t worry Grandma.” Now when she champs at the bit, everyone chimes in with a chorus of “Don’t worry, Grandma.” 

Aunt Ruth is a television news hound and faithfully follows all political happenings, and she isn’t shy about telling people what she thinks about everything. Her doctor was taking her blood pressure while she chatted on about the latest news reports. He listened, and then took out his prescription pad and began to write. “Is something wrong with me?” she fussed.“Your blood pressure is a bit high,” he replied.  “Here is your prescription.”  He had written, “You are no longer allowed to watch CNN.” 

Fat chance! Did I mention that Aunt Ruth never follows orders. 

Esther Blumenfeld (wouldn’t trade her for a million bucks)