Grammy and Me

My mother and I have a unique relationship. The two of us have batted banter back and forth in a nearly endless volley ever since I was small. These days we usually pick up one week at the exact same snarky moment where we left things the previous “Grammy Night” seven days earlier. It is odd, I imagine, for my children to see me in the cut and thrust wordplay which takes place between us, as it is not the sort of exchange I share with anyone else. After twelve years, Cindy is just now getting used to the rhythm.

My mom lives just one and a half miles away, though proximity does nothing to keep her from being regularly a half hour or so late to dinner. If were I to unroll the scroll of things about her which annoy me, it would easily kiss the concrete from my house to hers. Still, I do love the old lady dearly and credit her with much of my verbal aptitude. As far back as I can recall, she’s always spoken to my sister and me in full, articulate and sometimes rather silly sentences. Whenever we had questions, her answers were thorough, and she never steered too far from the more difficult topics or acted as though we were unable to understand.

My mom stepped into the 21st century a couple of months back with the purchase of her first computer. Since then she has been one of the most frequent commenters here at Writer Dad. Her comments are often quite sweet, though she doesn’t seem to understand that answering a comment is not quite as simple as answering an email and tends to get impatient. Last week my mom left her first comment at Blogger Dad, then emailed me several hours later, a slight undercurrent of panic between the lines, “Do you think Dave got my comment?!?! It said, ‘awaiting moderation,’ but that was HOURS ago!”

“Yeah Mom, I’m sure he got it,” I said.

Wednesday’s post about the teachable moment in the library ended with a short poem. My mom’s comment was a response in rhyme. The two of us went back and forth and then back and forth again. Our exchange was fairly rapid fire and offers a rather nice snapshot of our relationship. I thought I would share.

Enjoy!

ME:
4th graders are awesome, though best when they listen
Instead of the blah-blah-ing that gets them to missing
The info the teachers are spitting and spewing
To let the kids know what they’re supposed to be doing
Writing is fun – it’s like cake and balloons
On a Saturday morning spent watching cartoons
Except writing is better because you get to choose
What things you should keep and what things you should lose
You’re the creator – the world’s yours to build
Who gets to live there and how it is filled
Unicorns, dragons and men with red eyes;
Fairies and magic, an ending surprise
Fantasy’s fun if you break every rule
Decide what is dumb and decide what is cool
Be your best writer, place pen to the page
Write the best story, then be all the rage

GRAMMY:
We all like a story, the weirder the better,
The plot can turn fast, like a change in the weather.
It’s fun to learn how to spin a great tale,
Like pinnochio trapped inside of that whale.
A good teacher can train you, just give her a chance
To guide your ideas, put your mind in a trance.
You’ll be amazed at what you can do
It’s almost as easy as tying your shoe.
It’s how they all started, those authors of fame
Playing with words, but more than a game.
Once you get going, you’ll soar and you’ll fly
but don’t waste any time or you’ll ask yourself “why”?

ME:
I like that your’e spitting your comment in rhyme
It’s really a fun way to fritter the time
The words come so quick; like “you know” from a goose
They’ll rumble around until you let loose
Obviously my verbiage was nurtured quite well
Now I lay down the rhythm like ringing a bell
Thanks for always talking to me as a kid
Even with all the obnoxious I did
It’s one of the reasons I now think so fast
The skills of my present, piled onto my past

GRAMMY:
Yep, you were a wild one, I can’t disagree,
But they say the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.
Encourage a young one with humor and praise
And it should pay off for the rest of your days.
I’m so glad you had such a great, twisted brain
Now you can write without feeling no pain 
Creativity’s fun, of that there’s no doubt
Just have the confidence to let it all out.
All this rhyming is making me dizzy and weak, I think
A big cheesburger I will go seek!!!!

ME:
How long can you do this, ’cause I’ve got all day
And you know I never run out of new things to say
I’ll rhyme in the morning and then rhyme at lunch
I’ll rhyme during dinner and I have a hunch
That I can keep going even when I am dreaming
The words in my head are all twisted and teeming
Foaming and frothing, all set to explode
Syllables spilling – I’m cracking the code
Chew on your cheeseburger, swallow your shake
Feast on your french fries and dream about steak
If you wanna keep going, you know I’m right here
I’ll keep this thread running till the end of the year

GRAMMY:
Oh, pshaw, boy, of that there’s no doubt
You have talent like a tile store has grout.
We could keep going like this, you and I
But you’re right, I would rather go eat some pie.
While this is great fun,I could go all day
I have things to do and places to play
Laundry to do, dishes to wash
Cats to feed , perhaps a roach to squash.
I’ll cut it short now and bid you adieu
See you at grammy nite with cookies or stew.

ME:
I’ll look forward to Grammy Night, as I always do
But please, there’s no need for your cookies or stew
I’d rather you knock on the door right on time
A Thursday on schedule would be so sublime
While we’re on the subject, my mother so dear
Can you please not bring any chotskys ’round here?
Seriously, we’re swimming in a sea of detritus
And I’m afraid the navigation will give me arthritis
Please bring your smile, your wit and your charm
Do it on time and we’ll ring the alarm
We’ll call in the media so they too can witness
Your attempt at finding some on the dot fitness

Writer Dad

My daughter has been sitting beside me for the last half hour while I edit this piece. She has her second post up over at Children Write the Future this morning, yet has been loathe to edit. She loves to write, but does not have the same feelings about the revision process and is under the false impression that her father does not need to edit. I pulled a Stephen King book from the shelf, the fattest I could find, and told her that even King, author of over 50 books, doesn’t ever get it right the first time. If you have a moment, either in the comments below or over at her post, “How to Know if Someone is a Good Friend,” please let her know that her Daddy is right.    : > ) THANKS!

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