Saturday, June 29, 2013

Miniskirts and Grandma

My mother and I would take my grandmother Rebecca Miner to her doctor’s appointments. Mom would drive and I would be there for Grandma to hang onto when she walked. She did okay at home, but sometimes curbs and steps without a railing gave her problems. She was bow legged from arthritis and her hands and feet were gnarled and misshapen from rheumatism. She walked by herself, but sometimes when she was out she needed an arm on which to lean or to have a steadying hand.

When her doctor’s appointment was over, Mom would drive us to one of several nearby restaurants for lunch. Grandma looked forward to having a meal where she didn’t have to cook or do the dishes afterward.

Grandma Becky still wore the opaque “flesh-colored” cotton stockings that were held up by elastic garters and black shoes that tied and had short clunky heels. The hems of her dresses were always mid calf or lower. Although her joints were old and gnarled, she still had black hair with only a strand or two even into her late seventies.

We chose a booth near the door and had just settled in when the waitress came and asked what we would like to drink and delivered our menus. After she walked away, I could see Grandma reaching her hand underneath the table and pulling at her skirt. Sitting there studying her menu, she would tug on her dress, not happy that her knees were showing.
The young waitress came back and took our orders while standing at the end of our table. Tucking her pad and pen into an apron pocket, she gathered the menus and carried our orders into the kitchen.
Grandma’s hand disappeared had already disappeared under the table and she was pulling at her dress again. Obviously she was feeling uncomfortable. I knew she would never relax while we ate our meal unless I did something.

Before I say more, I need to describe our waitress. She was attractive with long, straight blond hair and had shapely legs although they were very solid with full calves and thighs. This was the age of mini-skirts and her skirt bordered on the micro-mini. Earlier when this blond, long-limbed beauty stood at our table taking orders, the hem of her mini-skirt hovered above the table top.

So when Grandma’s hand delved beneath the table for her skirt hem agaIn, I asked, “Grandma, did you see our waitress?”
She looked puzzled but said, “Yes.”
“Did you see what she was wearing?”
Again she replied, “Yes.”
I said, “Did you see her legs?”
Her answer was the same, “Yes.”
“With her walking around in this restaurant, do you think that anyone is going to be looking at your knees?”

We all laughed and she settled down to enjoy her meal.

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