Trick on Gran-C
After the war Americans no longer were required to use food stamps. Indeed, food was becoming more plentiful, ending four years of rationing. Likewise, car sales boomed as steel and gasoline supplies increasingly became available. After the Great Depression coupled with a costly war, America began to enjoy its newfound bounty. The future looked promising.
During the summer of 1946, Jock and I had finished spending several wonderful weeks farming with Leonard Vliet in NJ. I had just turned nine.
After our farming experiences, Jock and I planned to head home by train. Before we left NJ, Mom asked her mother, Gran-C if she would take care of us for several days at her Summit hotel. Gran-C agreed.
Jock and I had been reasonably close brothers. Nonetheless, at every opportunity we would joust with one another. Gran-C was oblivious to our competitive relationship.
Our maternal grandmother, “Gran-C”. Photo taken at our farm during summer 1945.
A widow since 1932, Gran-C was living at the grand Summit Hotel in Summit, NJ. She had a lovely suite that served as her home. Huge trees graced the hotel’s extensive grounds. A wrought iron fence enclosed the entire property. White wicker lawn furniture and parasols were arranged on the property’s manicured lawns where Jock and I learned to play croquet and badminton. Along the hotel’s front was an outside, awning-covered, brick terrace where meals were served. It appeared that a far greater number of staff bustled about than there were guests being served.
In anticipation of afternoon tea, Jock and I were to be scrubbed and dressed in fresh attire. When Gran-C arrived, we two were expected to be sitting straight on the edge of our chairs. We rose from our seats as our grandmother approached the table. And once seated, we only spoke when addressed by an adult. Occasionally, a distinguished looking, white-haired gentleman, Mr. Straub, would join the three of us for tea. He, too, lived at the hotel and seemed fond of Gran-C. Jock and I learned he was a collector of fine porcelain. Mr. Straub was always impeccably dressed.
At the end of the war, few Americans owned automobiles. On weekends many of those fortunate to have a car would take their families on occasional excursions into the countryside for pure enjoyment. Gran-C was an exception. She preferred to take more frequent drives in her handsome black Buick sedan. Back then, in Summit, NJ there were few traffic lights, not many gas stations, no parking meters, and no traffic congestion.
One afternoon, Gran-C suggested we all take a drive into the countryside. Mr. Straub would be joining us. At the appointed time, her guest arrived and was invited to sit in the front passenger seat. Jock and I were relegated to the back and, as always, were reminded of our manners. Then, in her domineering manner, Gran-C took full control of the passengers, their conversation, and the driving as she would up into her 90s.
Typically when riding alone with Gran-C, Jock and I would take turns sitting in the front seat. In this way we would be kept apart thereby mitigating sibling rivalry. But, on that afternoon, the two of us were required to sit together in the back seat. We were forewarned not to make any noise at the risk of severe discipline. Already I had calculated how we two could remain out of sight of our grandmother’s view -- or so I thought.
Jock and I quickly became bored as the car drove along the back roads at high speed while Gran-C and Mr. Straub chatted. Before long I began to needle Jock. Annoyed with me, he soon blurted, “Gran-C, Tony’s poking me.” I quickly responded by reminding my grandmother that Jock had violated the “undue noise” code of silence. I awaited a tongue-lashing to be targeted at Jock. Suddenly, the Buick came to an abrupt halt in front of a number of small, single-family tract houses that lined the street. I was ordered to get out of the car. “Why me?” I blurted reminding Gran-C that I had made no “undue noise” in the car. Unfortunately, via the rear view mirror she had caught me harassing Jock. Up until then I had been totally unaware of rear view mirrors. Clearly, her displeasure was directed at me. And, even more importantly, I had overlooked the fact that Jock was seen as Gran-C’s favored grandchild.
As the car pulled away, I was left standing on the curb in an unknown neighborhood. I could see Jock’s victory smirk directed at me through the car’s rear window. From the front seat, Mr. Straub looked back at me aghast in recognition of what was happening. For his benefit I put on my very best pout and hung my head with a heavy brow. Rarely afraid of most difficult situations, I came up with a plan to counter this grievous attack on me.
As I saw the Buick turn several blocks down the road, I knew I had to act quickly. Approaching the front door of one of the nearby houses, I knocked. Soon, an elderly woman and a man opened the door and peered down at me. I told them I was lost but that my grandmother probably would be driving by soon to find me. “Could I wait inside until she arrived?” My hosts were appalled seeing a little boy alone, lost on the streets late that evening. They promptly ushered me inside and gave me a glass of milk and cookies as I sat near their front window. Using my best forlorn sounding voice I thanked them as I peered out the window hopefully awaiting Gran-C.
Just then I saw the Buick coming into view as it cruised slowly past the house. I took another sip of milk as I allowed the car to disappear once again down the road. Sitting in their chairs away from the living room windows, my hosts asked if they could help in any way. “Do you know your telephone number, young man?” I shook my head and assured them that in all likelihood my grandmother would show up soon. The couple went back to their reading. I continued to peer out the window.
Once again, the Buick reappeared driving ever so slowly down the road. Gran-C was searching for her grandson, her daughter’s young son who had been abandoned alone on the sidewalk in a strange neighborhood. I ate the last cookie as the car once again disappeared out of sight. That time I saw the faces of Mr. Straub and Jock pressed up against the car’s right side windows peering out.
Once the car passed by, I then rose from my vantage point at the front window and told my hosts I sensed my grandmother’s car was nearby. The couple stood in the doorway as I walked down to the curb. I was hoping that Gran-C would, in fact, circle around the fourth time. She did. As the Buick stopped, Mr. Straub got out to open the back door for me before turning to thank my hosts profusely. Gran-C was elated to see me. Did I see a tear in her eye? I did receive one of her rare hugs. She expressed her sorrow at my having been lost.
In time, Jock expressed astonishment at my success in getting back into Gran-C’s good graces. Later, he and I had a good belly laugh -- together.
