For me, there was just nothing better than escaping to Momsy and Pop's house on Parkway Drive.
I loved spending time with my maternal grandparents. The first thing I'd do after Mom drove away was go to the fridge and take inventory, to see if all my favourites were on hand: a "barbecue" chicken from the grocery store, Brunschweiger pate spread, Cheez Whiz, and lots of cans of Pepsi. Check. In the freezer: fudgesicles and Aunt Jemima waffles. Check. In the cupboards: Rye bread, Vegetable Thins crackers and Fritos. Check.
Then, on to Momsy's bedroom, where the twin beds draped in their pale pink chenille spreads awaited. I would peek under my bedspread to make sure my favourite sheets--the bright pink, yellow and chartruese flowered ones--and the pink blanket with the satin trim were there. Check. A quick scan of Momsy's dresser to see if she had acquired any new bottles of perfume or lipsticks since my last visit. After a squirt from one of the glass atomizers on the doily and a glance in the mirror, it was off to the bathroom to check for cartoon bandaids and Pepsodent in the medicine cabinet, and to finger and smell the navy, bright green and turquoise shower curtain. Then a pass by the den to gaze at the moonlight sea scape painting over the brown nylon couch, and on to Momsy's navy, turquoise and apple green covered swivel rocker in the living room..if she wasn't already sitting in it, that is. If she was, I'd happily take my place in Pop's chair, since he was still at work at International Tool & Die just up Malden Road.
About 4:30, just when The Edge of Night would be coming on t.v., I'd run to the pantry and hide, because Pop would be home soon. The minute I heard his white Ford with the red vinyl seats pull into the driveway, I'd wait to jump out and "surprise" him the minute he walked in the side door.
Dinner might have been Momsy's delicious meatloaf, pork chops in cream of mushroom soup, mashed or scalloped potatoes, Green Giant frozen mixed vegetables, and her yummy homemade coleslaw (with chopped Macintosh apples). And there was always, always dessert: jello with whipped cream out of a can, vanilla ice cream with chocolate sauce or Dare Chocolate Chip or Fudgee-O cookies.
After dinner Pop and I would go out into the backyard, sit on the plaid porch swing and talk while Momsy did the dishes inside. There was a pink clay bird bath (that they'd brought with them when they moved from Academy Drive) beneath the giant poplar trees. Swinging on that swing with Pop while the fan-shaped poplar leaves made a comforting rustling sound was one of my very favourite things. Pop would name the birds that came to splash around in the bath. Then I'd ask him to sing "Waltzing Matilda". He never said no. When dusk arrived, and with it the mosquitoes, we'd go inside.
Pop would get ready for bed, since he got up so early in the morning. I would get into my pyjamas and join Momsy in the living room for a cup of black tea. Momsy loved her television shows and I loved watching with her. Peyton Place came on too late (and was too "mature") for me to be allowed to watch at home, but when I was at Momsy's I could stay up as late as she did and watch whatever she watched, even the 11 o'clock news from Channel 4 in Detroit. And we always had Fritos and Pepsi while watching Perry Mason. When we did finally climb into those twin beds with their freshly laundered and ironed cotton sheets, we'd talk in the dark for a bit as the poplar leaves gently flapped outside the open window.
It was still night time when Pop's alarm went off. Still snuggled in bed, I'd hear Pop shaving in the bathroom. Momsy got up, donned her quilted housecoat and slippers and padded into the kitchen to make Pop's breakfast and pack his lunch. After he left, she came back to bed until I woke up.
Breakfast was my choice: waffles with Imperial Margarine and syrup or soft boiled eggs with rye toast "soldiers". I had my own egg cup, fancy juice glass and silver "egg spoon". After breakfast, I'd get dressed and help Momsy with whatever she was doing...hanging out laundry, cleaning, dusting or vacuuming. But my favourite was ironing. She'd set up the ironing board in the living room with the can of spray starch and the Pepsi bottle filled with water and a hole poked in its cap. She insisted on doing Pop's shirts herself, but anything else was fair game for me. We'd have mid-morning black tea or if it was really hot, we'd split a can of Pepsi--in a tall glass with lots and lots and lots of ice. Lunch was "chicky", which is what I called the "barbecue" chicken. I loved the way Momsy arranged a chicky leg, a wing, and a big slice of white meat on a plate with gherkin pickles, celery sticks and a handful of Vegetable Thins on the side. Heaven! Sometimes there were Twinkies or those fantastic Hostess chocolate cupcakes with the white curlicue across the fudge icing on top. I was allowed to have a package of two to myself...something that never happened at home, since there were two other mouths to feed besides mine.
After lunch, the soap operas began: Search for Tomorrow, As the World Turns, The Guiding Light, General Hospital, The Secret Storm and The Edge of Night. Momsy never missed them so she could always fill me in on what I'd missed or explain what I didn't understand. She talked back to the characters too. "Oh, you fool!" or "She never learns, that one!" "She's got a face like a pan of worms!" Sometimes while the soaps were on Mariette, the girl from across the street, would knock at the front door. Sometimes I'd walk with her to nearby Maurice Belanger Park, but most of the time it was just so much more fun to be with Momsy. She'd let me try on her clothes, wear her jewellery, root through her closets. And the way she and Pop went on about my artwork, you'd think I was Rembrandt.
Every night on Channel 50 at 10 o'clock, it was Perry Mason. Momsy talked back to them too, especially to DA Hamilton Berger. She hated him! And every time Paul Drake came on screen, she'd exclaim how terribly handsome and smart and funny he was and how Perry would never solve any of his cases without him.
My stays might have been just a weekend, an entire March break, or even longer during summer vacation. But they were never long enough for me. Momsy and Pop eventually left Parkway Drive and moved to a mobile home in McGregor, where I continued to visit them and love every minute, every time.
Momsy died of a stroke when I was 14 years old and I couldn't cry. I wanted to, so badly, because crying when someone died was proof of how much you loved them. But no tears came. Until one night awhile later, as I laid in bed and remembered the sound of the gently flapping poplars, the taste of Pepsi and the Perry Mason theme song.
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