Shut up and nod.

My mother and I have a habit of discussing scenarios that may never happen and planning a future life I may never have. Over the years we have discussed plans for weddings all around the world, some vague, some a detailed as to who we would invite to this fictitious event. Currently there are no men in my life but she and I have the rehearsal dinner all planned if the wedding should take place in Vegas, early spring would be best.

Once when we were discussing the children I may never have in this mock future thee idea of adoption came up and in particular adopting a child of Asian decent. Personally I feel that a kid is a kid and where they come from doesn’t matter as long as they are wanted and loved. My Grandma Pidgeon was visiting from her Detroit area home at the time. She always prided herself on being a “pip” in her old age in-between her lectures on the proper use of a rolling pin and renditions of “Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds” were the title were the only lyrics used with an occasional “dee dee dee” in between.

She chimed in during the discussion and stated “I just don’t think I could look at a Chinese baby all day,” we acknowledged her opinion but didn’t stop to really take it into consideration as we had already moved onto which pre-schools this imaginary Asian child of mine should be attending. It wasn’t until a few years after her passing that it hit me what an incredibly racist comment that was.

I was talking to my mother on the phone about it recently and she agreed with my suspicions completely “oh yes I think she was racist, but I think she was tired at the time.” There is always an excuse to irregular or taboo behavior in my family that usually revolved around how tired or drunk a person was at the time. Comments that didn’t fall under those two categories such as “Your uncle is far too tall to be a lawyer” were simply taken in stride and quietly mocked later and generally thought of as “being a character”.

Beyond the closeted racism my grandmother led a rather risque life in her younger years, working in New York at Saks 5th Avenue, snagging my grandfather away from the girl his family had wanted him to marry, and accepting a watch, a gift that touched her skin, which was something looked down upon at the time. A good comparison would be gifting the Kama Sutra to your boyfriend or girlfriend at the family Christmas party. She ended up being kicked out of the place she was staying at the time due to that present.

Then of course World War 2 made life difficult with my grandfather stationed in India and raising a little girl, Aunt Clair, on her own. Later things didn’t get particularly easier, losing one of her four children after he had gone on to college, and the other children and eventually grandchildren being afflicted with a variety of physical and mental problems but still she kept her disposition from going sour. There has been cancer or organ failure/ major damage in just about every single person.

So when she made it through all of life’s trials and tribulations, it was decided that if grandma wants to look at the slightly depressed alter girl in church and yell out “what the hell is that” or simply must lay out pictures of an event on the kitchen counter to take a picture of all the pictures, we let her. And even though we may not have agreed with her stance on Asian adoption or wished she would have learned more than just a title of a song before starting to sing it, we smiled and nodded when she would look to us for recognition because that’s what you do when you love someone. You shut up and you nod.