Sometimes, during the last couple years of his life, when we would go out to dinner with my grandfather, he would
take his teeth out and put them on the table. He’d pick at them with a fork or
sometimes even drop them in his water glass and swirl them around. I think the
first few times he did that, we all said, “Oh my God, you can’t do that…Gampi!...Come
on…what are you doing?”; but it got to be a common enough occurrence
that after a while, we all kind of shrugged and kept talking, “Waitress! We’re
ready to order”. You might think that was an indication of his senility, even
altzheimer’s, but it wasn’t. My grandfather was sharp as a tack, in fact he
died giving a speech at a party he was having in his house for the District Attorney of
Philadelphia. He was also a firm believer in the importance of manners (when we
were little,for example, he insisted that when we were introduced to his
friends or co-workers that we look them in the eye, give a firm handshake or
curtsy, and say, How do you do?) but he always lived by his own rules. If he
felt like taking his motherfucking teeth out at a table in a restaurant, he was
going to take his motherfucking teeth out.
Still.
Here are a few other details about my Grandfather:
-He was born
in Italy.
-He was a
college professor.
-He was
President of the International Trial Lawyers Association.
-He went to
an Ivy League school that he paid for himself.
-He wore
pinky rings.
-He carried an old brown wallet, stuffed 3 inches full with cash and every credit card in America, and held together with 6 rubber bands.
-He owned
bespoke suits in every color and fabric, including ones with jackets in pink
and yellow and red; he had to turn a room in his house into a closet just to
hold them all.
-He mostly
wore clip-on ties because he never learned how to tie one.
-In the
summer he had a party every Sunday and he would cook the food and then sing
before dinner with a 3-man band he had hired specifically for that purpose.
-He was very
generous.
He went
through almost his entire life without removing his teeth at the table, so,
yeah, it was odd. Kind of scary too, seeing his face slack, suddenly formless. Maybe it was a clue, one that gets overlooked until there is
hindsight, that he was heading down a dead-end street. It may not have been a
conscious act, but it was a way of saying, however quietly: I’m done.
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