Issue date:
June 19-21, 1998

Grandma Blue

Adults will be as captivated as kids by this charming fable about two "wicked" children who learn a lesson about kindness.

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USA WEEKEND Summer Fiction Index

By Gloria Naylor

CHOOL IS OUT for the summer. The morning is rainy and gray. My brother and I are having one of our busy days:

"She did it! She did it!" he screams.
"He did it, too!" I say.
Daddy's car window is broken ...
The new carpet's full of litter ...
"She did it!"
The goldfish are eating laundry detergent ...
And my doll is in the blender ...
"He did it, too!"
"Wicked little midgets!" my father roars.

"No, dear," my mother says. "Remember, we promised to be patient and say, 'The children are having one of their busy days.' "

My brother sticks out his tongue at me, and I break his toy airplane in two.

"I think," my mother sighs "this might be a good time for a visit to Grandma Blue."

"Oh, no, not Grandma Blue!"

We beg.
We plead.
We apologize.
My brother tries to glue the hair back onto the doll.

"Don't send us, Mommy, please. You said Grandma Blue eats people."
My mother begins to pack our clothes.
"Well, your Grandma Blue likes surprises, and this week it's you."

My mother has a colored family who all live like a rainbow around Diamond Lake, The Greens, The Reds. The Yellows. Old Orange Papa Jake. And when you get to this part of town, the clouds all vanish away.

Grandma Blue is working in her garden full of sunlight and flowers. Her white hair curls on top of her head. And white teeth spread all over her face. But her skin is bluer than bluebells. Bluer than violets. Bluer than forget-me-nots, even bluer than lilacs.

"Don't leave us, Mommy, please. You said Grandma Blue eats people."

"Don't worry," my mother says as she smiles and waves goodbye. "Grandma Blue is very particular. She would never want to eat children like you."

Come in, come in. What a pleasant surprise. And, oh, don't tell me -- are there tears in those eyes?"

"This is all your fault," my brother says, and hits me on the head.
"It's yours, too," I say, as I kick him in the leg.
Grandma Blue breaks up the fight, holding us far apart.

"Grandma wants to stop this fighting, this screaming, and all this hitting. She needs to find the word NO -- but my goodness, where did it go? Help me look under the sofa cushions."

e look under the sofa cushions.
We look under the rug.
We look inside the closets.
We look behind the tub.
We go way down into the basement.
And look in every box.
We even climb into the attic.
And take apart old clocks.

"How strange," Grandma Blue says. "Where is that word NO? It seems to be hiding from us everywhere we go. We must have overlooked it. Let's do it all again. And this time, children, search a little harder."

And from top to bottom she makes us do it all again: The sofa. The rug. The closets. The tub. Down into the basement. Up into the attic.

"Grandma Blue, we're getting tired."

"But if the word NO won't come out of hiding, you and your brother will just keep on fighting. So let's do it all again. And search a little harder."

"NO, we won't keep fighting, Grandma."

"NO, honest, we won't."

Grandma Blue gives us both a really big hug. "Look how smart you children are -- you found the word that Grandma needed. And you didn't have to go far."

The doorbell is ringing. And a neighbor comes in bringing fresh vegetables from her garden. "I have so much," she says, "and it's always good to share. There's carrots, tomatoes, fresh spinach."

"Well, the children and I certainly do thank you."

"For vegetables?" My brother can't control his laughter.

"Yeah, Grandma Blue. It's really dumb to thank her. Carrots make me itch. Tomatoes give me hives. Just smelling spinach, I want to throw up. And I only eat potatoes fried."

"Well, that's a pity," Grandma says to me. "You'll be so sick after dinner you'll have to go straight to bed. And while we are all watching TV and enjoying homemade ice cream, you'll be upstairs sleeping, hopefully having pleasant dreams."

My brother, who's a two-faced and lousy traitor, says, "Mommy always told us eating vegetables makes you strong."

The neighbor lady laughs, agreeing to come to dinner. "And if you're making ice cream, I have plenty of strawberries growing."

"What a kind young woman," Grandma whispers to me. "Don't you think she'd be the perfect person to eat?"

We all sit down exactly at 6. Grandma Blue says proper meals at proper times are good for the digestion.

The neighbor lady smiles and smiles. "Mrs. Blue, I have just one question: How'd you get these carrots looking so delicious?"

My brother takes a tiny bite and chews it very slowly. I dip my fork into the spinach, close my eyes, and swallow.

I imagine Grandma chewing her ears. Her neck. Her toes. Her fingers. It's just what she deserves, I think, as I wait for Grandma to eat her.

But one bite of spinach and she's still there. Two bites of spinach, she's gone nowhere. Three bites of spinach -- hey, this isn't fair. Go on, Grandma -- eat her!

We finish our meal and I do get ice cream.

"I even brought some chocolate," the neighbor says to me. "Because you children are the most well-mannered I've ever seen."

I guess I'm glad you didn't eat her," I say as she leaves to go home.

"But I did." Grandma Blue takes off her big, round glasses. "Look inside of me." She has soft brown eyes with two little dots that are shining and round.

We get real close and try to peer all the way down. And there inside of Grandma is an endless, endless blue.

Floating free and having fun --
The telephone man,
The mailman,
The neighbor lady, too.

The telephone man is playing drums, timed with the beat of her heart. The mailman's on a pair of skates, rolling up and down her smile. The neighbor lady gets wind for a kite each time Grandma breathes. And lots and lots of other people I have never seen. All inside Grandma Blue. All cozy and warm and free.

"Children, you must listen to what Grandma says to you. Just like in our family, the world is full of people who come in all colors and hues. But take only a few of them deep, deep inside.

"The selfish and the mean I never want to eat. They clog the heart. They stop the breath. They give you indigestion. But those who try to practice kindness in whatever they say and do, eat those people up, because they'll keep your insides happy. Full of wonderful color.

"Full of warmth and light."