The von Rundstedts

Recently, my Grandparents were in town from the great state of Ohio. For those of you who don’t know me that well (or maybe for those of you who do), the majority of my family is from Ohio. Both of my parents and both of sets of Grandparents have called Ohio home; although, my parents met in NC. I still have lots of aunts, uncles, and cousins scattered throughout Amish country. So watch it before you make snarky remarks about the Buckeyes, or pick on a really tan person from “up north”… that’s probably my Grandma Sharon. And Ohio is not really “up north,” even though it IS above the line. Anyway, enough about those people.

I hope they had as wonderful a time with us as I did with them. We kicked off their visit with a true Rundt-Style get together (there really is no other word to describe it), complete with Skin-so-Soft Oil doubling as bug repellant (wth, Mom?), croquet, awkward new relationships, and a wide variety of thirst-quenchers – perfect fit for a sticky Southern day in the country. I mean, only good things can come out of that combo, right?

All in all, the get together was a success. Only a couple of “incidents,” one of which may will be a part of Rundt family lore forever.  I can’t tell you about it though; it’s a family secret. Unless we're friends, and you don't judge - then you may be able to coax it out of me. My sister, Chelsi, did have a frog land on her chest while we were having a slumber party in the living room. That was fun.

 

We ended their visit with a visit to a local BBQ place. It was packed, as usual, but we were seated quickly and service was good, as usual. A couple of Abitas later and I was very sad to say goodbye. Back to Ohio they must go.  

Anyway, all of this rambling has a point – my Grandparents are pretty cool people.  They are both retired and golf five days a week (they “don’t golf on weekends. It’s too crowded.” Obv.). Grandma Sharon is pushing 71 and shoots under 90. I barely know the significance of that, but it impresses Justin.

After their daily round, they hang out at their condo pool for the rest of the afternoon (hence the killer tans), watch the news and whatever else 70-year olds watch in the evening, and their sweet little grey heads hit the pillow at 9:00pm every night. My Grandfather’s nickname around their pool is Cabana Boy [awesome]… upon the revelation of which, he grins sheepishly and grabs me another beer from the kitchen.

They are season ticket holders for Ohio State football. My 77ish-year-old Grandfather doesn’t miss a game and tailgates EVERY Saturday during football season. He and his buddies may have invented kegs and eggs. My Grandmother drinks wine by the box, and usually out of a repurposed water bottle. It’s just that good. This fall, they will have been married 53 long years, and they still hold hands and call each other Dear.

Sometimes, it’s hard to stop myself from putting people into a mental bucket. A la, This person is my Grandmother. Grandmothers are supposed to make delicious homemade biscuits, give you Bath and Body Works stuff for Christmas, and rub your back when you’re standing next to them. All of that is very nice, don’t get me wrong, but it’s also very nice to get to know Sharon... to imagine my Grandfather as Cabana Boy, fetching drinks for the foxy ladies by the pool. I can't even think that with a serious face. 

I guess it has dawned on me how truly blessed I am to have so many special people in my life, and how enlightening it can be to see a loved one through a fresh/different set of eyes. Give it a whirl, you may not know someone as well as you think you do. They may not like hanging out in your mental bucket.

[On side note – I’ve gotten more than one Groupon e-mail for a Segway tour in my hometown. Yes, please. I would love to pay to cruise effortlessly around my hometown on two wheels, all while looking like a huge dork extremely modern and hip. Does anyone have a helmet I can borrow? I prefer the extra pointy kind.]