Sunday, June 17, 2007

My Bubbie is Not Politically Correct

My Bubbie is one of my favorite people in the world, but although she's a somewhat liberal thinker (she urged my cousin to have a baby with her boyfriend when she thought a marriage would never happen), she is not politically correct. She uses a Yiddish word for black (with derogatory connotations) for black people and her word for gay people? Fairies. Oh, Bubbie. But the woman's 89 and lives in Missouri--there's no way I'm going change her.

For Valentine's Day this year, like every year, I sent cards to both my grandmothers and my mom. My mom and my other grandmother thanked me, so I assumed my Bubbie got her card too. Not so.

Later that week, my sister Stacey told me that Bubbie had asked her if I was mad at her for some reason. When Stacey asked why she thought that, Bubbie explained that I hadn't sent her a Valentine's Day card, which was unlike me. "You better call her right now," Stacey said, finishing her story.

So I called her immediately and after chatting for a few minutes, I asked her if she ever got her Valentine's Day card.

"No, sweetheart, I didn't."

"I'm so sorry!" I cried, "My mom and granny got theirs, so I assumed you got your also. I sent them all on the same day."

"Oh, it's ok. I'm glad to know that you sent me one. You know, on Valentine's Day the only cards I got were from Stacey, your mother, Barbara, and Brian. I didn't hear from anyone else." Oh no, the guilt! Bubbie has 4 children, 10 grandchildren, and 8 great-grandchildren, so she's been honing guilt trips for a while. "You know, I've been having some problems with my mail--some of my magazines haven't been coming."

"Well, I'm really, really sorry. I was thinking about you."

"Oh, thank you, Lover, it's so nice to hear that."

Every time I talked to Bubbie for the next few weeks, I would inquire about the card, but it never showed up. I think she thought I was just trying to cover my ass. She always tells Stacey and me that we're her favorites, so we respond with cards and gifts in ways that my cousins don't. She's easy for me to love, so I did feel bad that she thought I forgot about her.

A few weeks later, she told me that she thought she figured out what happened.

"Jenny, I want to tell you about an article I just read in the paper." Bubbie is the only person who's allowed to call me 'Jenny.' Well, Tom, this guy from high school I had a crush on for 10 years, calls me Jenny, but come on, after 10 years, I would have let him call me anything. "There was a story about this couple who took in all these retarded children and they've helped them get into all these special programs."

"Oh, that's so nice of them."

"Anyway, one of the kids is older now and he has a job at the post office. So I think that's why my mail's been so screwy lately."

Oh. Oh Bubbie--blaming the retarded kid at the post office? Hmmmmm.

About two months later, I was surprised the find a familiar looking pink envelope in my mailbox. My Bubbie's Valentine's Day card had been returned to me--I wrote her address wrong. So it was her address-challenged granddaughter who screwed up, not the retarded kid at the post office.

1 Comments:

Blogger stacey said...

that's fucking hilarious! i'm going to start blaming retards working for the post office whenever i forget to mail something to someone from now on!

11:24 PM, July 30, 2007

 

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