Allow myself to introduce....myself

I have another interview on Monday that I'm actually looking forward to this time. It's at an ad agency and the woman on the phone today said she was interested in finding someone who was willing to start at entry level as a receptionist, but was also wanting that person to transition into a project tracking position (bye-bye entry level, hello cool job in an ad firm with more $$) over the next six months. From my resume and the brief chat on the phone, I appear to be a good candidate and she'd like to meet me. Well alrighty then. I'm crossing my fingers for that one.

In other news, my father's mother sent me a little card and a check for $75, which I received today. I have some mixed feelings about that and I can tell this is going to turn into a longer post than I'd intended. Anyway, I spent the majority of my childhood dreading the annual visits to her house. Since my grandfather died when I was 1 1/2, I never knew him and I've always been a little sad about that. We share the same birthday and I've always been curious about him but have gotten very little information from my grandmother. Whenever I'd ask her about him, she'd say she didn't want to talk about it or to wait until another time. Another time never came.

Since she's lived alone in that big 5 bedroom house for as long as I can remember, she's used to having everything just so and all of her time to herself. She would keep busy with a bridge club and volunteer work and gardening, etc., but one would think that her grandchildren coming for a visit would warrant a little flexibility in her schedule. Not so. I remember one visit when it was just my sister and I staying with her and her bridge friends were coming over to play for the day. Instead of introducing us to the ladies and letting us hang around in the backyard or upstairs or something, she gave us some money, dropped us off in town and told us to walk back a few hours later. I think I was 11 and my sister was 7.

A few years later (I was 14 or 15), our family had come to visit and go to my dad's youngest sister's wedding. My dad has four sisters and he's the oldest and only boy, so he'd been asked to give the bride away. At the time, everyone in my family except my sister, who as a child was a little elvish wisp of a girl, was a bit.....round. We look back on the wedding pictures and we're all appalled by our appearance. My folks weren't exercising like they do now and were carrying some extra weight. I was at that age where things are filling out and the baby fat is still hanging on and the last thing you want is someone looking at you and drawing attention to it. I've never been a petite girl anyway, but I'd spent a lot of time in school being picked on for various reasons, not least of which was my height and weight. So, the day before the wedding, the whole family was at my grandmother's house for a barbeque in the afternoon before the rehersal dinner. My cousins, my sister and I were all in the kitchen getting a piece of strawberry shortcake for dessert. I remember this very clearly because my aunt Kathy went off on my grandmother later for what she said to me: "Now Tiffy dear, you don't need any of that. We need to be watching our girlish figure." That day directly affected the way I perceived myself all through the rest of high school and college. She'd singled me out in front of my sister and cousins and the other people in the dining room as unattractive and I was horrified. She didn't even realize how what she said affected me and didn't seem to care one way or the other. I was easily pushed to tears in those days, but for some reason I held them back and just walked out of the kitchen. A little later, my aunt Kathy came over and took me aside and told me she's spent her whole life hearing comments like that from her mother and hearing her say what she'd said to me was the last straw. She laid into my grandmother about making her feel ugly as a child and said she didn't ever want to hear her say anything like that to me again. Later that night, my grandmother gave me some money and thanked me for watching the younger cousins and being a good example. Never was there an apology offered or requested.

Throughout my life, I received birthday cards with money in them from her and the same deal at Christmas. Very little interest was taken in what I had to say or was interested in when we'd all go visit, but there was always money being given at the end of each stay. Near the end of college, it was passed through the familial grapevine to me that my grandmother was telling people not to give me money as I would just squander it away. Strangely, the checks kept coming and I've felt for a long time that she's tried to buy my affection with money rather than genuine interest or love.

When I opened the card today, I was expecing the note... my dad had let me know she'd asked for my new address and said she wanted to write to me. I wasn't, however, expecting the check. It's not my birthday for another four months and Christmas is still two months off. The note said something about always needing a little extra when you move and to let her know if I got it. So, I wonder now, does she write to my sister? Or my cousins? Why is she suddenly reaching out to me after spending the last 28 years making me feel insignificant? I don't get it. My dad says he thinks she's getting senile and won't be around for too many more years. It's terrible to say, but I don't have any feelings about that one way or the other. She hasn't been a significant presence in my adult life and while I'll feel bad for my father's loss when she's gone, I can't say that I'll miss her. It seems like I should, but the truth is still there that I won't unless something seriously changes in the next few years, but even then, I'm afraid it's too late.