Old Memory

When I was boy, I was much closer to my mother's parents than my father's. I spent summers with Grandmother and Granddad but would visit Nanna and Grandpa only occasionally and then just for the afternoon.

Granddad was one of these guys who worked every day of his life. He grew up in Wilmington, Delaware, where he quit school at 14 to go to work. He worked in factories and never got paid particularly well. By saving everything they had, the Fishers were comfortable in their retirement. Grandmother and Granddad lived in Middletown, a small town in upstate Delaware. He was a great guy, universally liked. Granddad enjoyed conversation and telling stories.

Grandpa went to college and had some big, high-powered executive job in Wilmington. To my boyhood eye, the Whites seemed rich. They traveled overseas, they drove Oldsmobiles, and there were lots of antiques and fancy furniture in the house. We always had lamb chops for dinner when we visited. Grandpa was loud and bombastic. I never saw him often enough to have any kind of relationship with him.

One summer in the early '70s, when I was a teenager, the four of us - my parents, my brother, and I - were visiting the Fishers in Middletown. It was a routine family visit. My father announced that all of us, including Grandmother and Granddad, had been invited by his parents to have dinner at the Wilmington Country Club. My mother later explained that the Wilmington Country Club was very posh and very elegant. We had to dress for dinner and be on our best behavior. She stopped short of saying the Wilmington Country Club was very exclusive although, looking back, I'm sure it was.

So the six of us piled into my father's Chevy and headed off for dinner. Granddad sat in the back with my brother and me. He was unusually quiet, almost grumpy. When we got to the club, it was just the way I pictured it: green fairways, multiple courses, a huge clubhouse with columns and doormen. We all stopped for pictures on the steps leading up to the front doors.

After everyone went in, I noticed Granddad hanging back, pacing around, not wanting to come in. I went back to him to discover he was in his "harrumphing" mood. Whenever he was angry or disgusted by a situation, he would make these little grunts to express his displeasure. I couldn't imagine why someone would be disgusted about having dinner in such a beautiful, fancy place.

Then he explained.

"You know Kem, I never finished high school when I was a boy. I had to go to work. I delivered papers and collected empty milk bottles. I was even a caddy here at the Wilmington Country Club. But I've never been in the clubhouse. Caddies weren't allowed. We had to stay down in the caddy shack because we weren't supposed to be seen by the members."

Eventually he went in and had dinner but I'm sure he didn't enjoy himself.

I don't know why I thought of this. But I did.
K-