Currently Chasing: A Perky Pair (of grandparents)

My mother and father are step brother and sister.

Kind of.

I don’t think my grandparents actually officially walked down an aisle. It’s just common law marriage at this point. But they lived in the same house under the umbrella of happily ever after. My grandfather with his two boys and my grandmother will her four boys and four girls.

My dad was a hippie artist/musician and my mother was a trim belly/hula dancer. Together they were the perfect amount of irresponsibility.

They fell in love…got pregnant….got married….got over it…got divorced.

My grandparents are still together. My grandmother knows the definition of hard work and commitment. She has run her own business for decades. She was married to her first husband until his death, and has no intentions of bailing out on her second. She raised eight kids. She is still a very active participant in her own life and the lives of her children, and her children’s children and her children’s children’s children. And I’m sure we aren’t far away from children to the 4^th degree.

I’m taking my boyfriend home in August. He has met my father, and my father’s sister, (AKA my mother,) he has even met my brother and a random cousin. But I want him to meet my grandparents. I want him to meet my grandmother. I want her to know I’m happy.

I’ve been away from home since I was 17. I’m back for a week here and a week there….but I’m gone. And I’ll always be gone. My grandmother worries about me. Despite her eight kids, and their kids and their kids….she worries about me. I am the only grandchild both blood related to her and my grandfather. They can bond over me. They can both invest whole-heartedly in my successes.  And I want them to know I’m going to always be ok.

My grandparents are so normal.

Kind of.

My grandmother was married to a military man and while in Guam took Polynesian and Hawaiian dance classes. Then she taught her children all aspects of the art…this included fire knife dancing, belly dancing, Samoan dancing, New Zealand numbers as well as traditional hulas and Tahitians. Then she took this show (literally, Thealani’s Polynesian Dancers) on the road. They did luaus all over California, Arizona and Nevada.

Members of my family have danced for Bob Hope, Phyllis Diller, Ronald Regan, John Stamos, and the list goes on. I was a dancer from the ripe ol’ age of 19 months till I was 17 and headed off to the military. I wore a wig and very heavy make up so I could appear more “pacific island” like. It is a huge part of our family. A huge part of who my grandmother is.

Normal right?

My grandfather owned a massage parlor when he was younger. I heard it got shut down because of some happy ending nonsense. My grandfather knew nothing about it of course. And this could all just be gossip…but mostly life is.

He then had a very successful Barber shop. My grandfather has always had very good hair. He also learned how to apply permanent make up…and gave my grandmother permanent eye liner and lip liner. That’s love right? Letting your husband tattoo your eyes!!?

Now he runs a tractor business. Perfectly normal progression.

My grandparents have still not fallen off this wild ride. They are characters in every sense of the word. And not to disturb anyone, but my grandmother has the largest, perfectly perked natural breasts I’ve ever seen (in a polyester sweater of course!) She is the reason I still wear a bra to bed. It helps, she would tell me. I believe her.

(I also wear a bra to bed because in high school I “broke my boobs” and since then have been afraid to let them drift to far from each other.)

Normal.

So in August I’m going to spend a bit more time with my grandparents. Tell them how much I appreciate all of the ups and downs. All of the trial and error. All of the highs and lows. I am so much of who they are. And I’m so thankful they are still around to hear me say it.