Has Grandma Been Run Over By A Reindeer?

By Brittany Burhop
March 31, 2009

Contrary to the catchy Christmas carol, grandma has not literally been trampled by our red-nosed friend, but some might say her image has. Or better yet, the image of elderly people as a whole.

I am fortunate to come from a family with a history of long, healthy life. Three of my four great-grandparents passed away in their late nineties while peaceful in their sleep. These particular elders once played a significant role in the development of my character, and the upbringing that has blessed me. And yet, I still managed to make fun of their quirkiness and mock their annoying habits behind their backs while they were alive.

My mom's grandmother, my great-grandma Neri, was an important part of my life until her clock ran out one year ago. Kneeling in front of her open casket, several thoughts came to mind as I stared down at the beautiful way a blue rosary was intertwined among her fingers. I became shaken by the idea that I was more upset with the way I had treated her throughout my life, rather than her actual death. There I knelt, fixated on my great-grandma's gentle hands. I reflected on earlier times when I could recall the many situations in which I disparaged her.

Great-grandma Neri loved to drink white zinfandel. While out to dinner with the family, she would rudely demand that the server fill her wine glass to the very top. She would say, "That's not enough; fill it up, would ya." The rest of the table would look the other way in embarrassment and then talk about her crazy antics on the ride home. The things I contributed were never very nice. I would roll my eyes when she asked me to hold her purse while she grabbed the handle to get into the car. I would scoot as far over as I could in my seat so that I could escape the painful sound of her licking her lips in between each word she spoke. I smiled and gave hugs, but only after I had spotted the $20-bill rolled up in her fist. I looked forward to the days when she would become too delicate to accompany us on our family vacations because she held us back from the adventurous excursions that she couldn't do. Don't even get me started on pushing her wheelchair all over the Las Vegas strip in the blistering heat of mid-July.

I don't know why I chose to let the annoyances consume me. I missed out on really getting to know great-grandma Neri for who she was rather than what she was. It seems that younger generations don't share the same appreciation for their elders as our parents once did. We curse at old people who drive too slowly. We cringe at the thought of visiting nursing homes. We have been sucked into a world where being old is considered being disposable.

Our youth-obsessed culture sneers at a wrinkled face and expects everyone to move at the same rapid pace at which technology is developing. So is it true when they say that we don't appreciate what we have until it's gone? Should we reduce our speed and get to know our elders before they've passed on? Yes and yes. Considering I have learned something from all this soul-searching.

Sooner or later our beloved parents will be the ones holding up traffic, and although it's hard to imagine, we will be them someday too. It is then when we will only hope that our grandchildren take an interest in our pasts without rolling their eyes or masking a sneer.  Let's just hope that as new generations emerge and the traditions of our elders begin to fade, we hold on to those who are important to us, because if we lose sight, grandma could be run over by an Escalade.