The Amazing Adventures of Gramma

by Holly Vellekoop

  Sneaky Rex remained vigilant, staring straight ahead.

  Chapter 9

  The D.C. Shuffle

  “I just love Washington D.C. this time of year,” Gramma said.

  “I can see why,” Andy said. “It’s beautiful. There’s so much to see, too.”

  “It’s one of my favorite places. So much beauty and history. And lots of manure thrown around here, too, and not just at the zoo.”

  Andy laughed.

  “What do you want to see first? The National Air and Space Museum? The zoo? They have pandas. Monuments? And there’s plenty more. It’s a treasure trove here.”

  “Well, Gramma, we’ll be working around your meetings, so you say when and where we’ll be going. This is so exciting. My first trip to D.C. Combining work and sightseeing is great. Especially some of the places we get to go to. It’s gonna be fun seeing D.C. with you.”

  “It sure will. Let me look at my messages. After that we’ll be on the go.” Gramma scrolled through her phone texts and accessed her e-mails on her computer. She answered some, deleted some, and whistled at some others.

  “Ay ay ay ay ay,” Gramma said. “When will this world settle down a little so a body can get a real vacation in? There’s so many places I want to visit just for fun and these leader types keep acting up.”

  “Why? What’s happening? Is there something more I should be worried about?”

  “Nah. Just more of the same. Good grief. Some of these people need a good old-fashioned spanking. That’s what’s wrong with them, you know. Never got disciplined. They were always told everything they did was fabulous. Sophomoric, under-achieving narcissists.” Gramma frowned. “No, don’t you go worrying about anything. I have some messages to double-check, some appointments to make, then you and I’ll shuffle off to do something fun.”

  “Aren’t you ever afraid your e-mails and texts will be hacked, Gramma? You know how everything’s being listened-in-on, taped and stored. Hackers are everywhere.”

  Gramma laughed out loud. “Amateurs. Again, that’s the problem with them being told over and over how simply mahvelous they are.” She laughed again. “They get an over-inflated opinion of themselves ’cuz no one wanted to hurt their feelings and tell them the truth when they needed to hear it. Someone should a’ made them do some real work. There’s no hacker good enough to break through my barriers. No one. At least not now.” She whistled a tune and sent more texts. “Okay. I’m done. Let’s go.”

  “Where to?” Andy asked.

  “The Vietnam Memorial Wall first, Andy. I want to take another look at it.” Gramma became quiet.

  “I’m sorry, Gramma. I know how hard it is for you to go there.”

  At the Vietnam Veterans Memorial

  Andy and Gramma walked solemnly up the walkway toward the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Wall. The Washington Monument obelisk stood to their backs as if on guard.

  A light blue sky reflected the black gabbro memorial walls, 246 feet 9 inches long. The black stone, chosen for its reflective quality, glistened with 58,272 names of the dead and missing.

  Gramma paced herself as she walked from one piece to another. She found the panel number and letter she was searching for and bent down to touch a name.

  Andy respectfully stood back and watched his grandmother trace the name with her fingers.

  Gramma spoke her friend’s name out loud, touched a finger to her lips and placed it back on the memorial to kiss the dear friend she lost so long ago.

  She had no way of knowing that somewhere in the background, her nemesis had a weapon pointed at her.

  After watching Gramma at the Vietnam Memorial Wall, Poppy couldn't pull the trigger.

  The Lincoln Memorial and a pot-bellied pig named Petey

  “The Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool is awesome,” Andy said.

  Gramma and Andy stood at the water, gazing east toward the Washington Monument.

  Closing in on them was a small woman walking a pot-bellied pig wearing a sweater and a flowered hat.

  “I bet that pig weighs as much as the owner,” Andy said. “And what’s that about the sweater? Who puts a pig in a sweater? And a flowered hat?”

  “He’s 150 pounds is he’s an ounce,” Gramma replied.

  “He’s kinda cute,” Andy said.

  “In a piggy sort of way. Not as cute as Sweetums, but he’s a cutie.” Gramma shifted to take a better look at the woman walking at the end of the pig’s leash.

  The woman looked at Gramma then bent down to adjust the harness on her pet.

  “What’s his name?” a little boy called to the pig owner.

  “Petey Pig,” an accented voice answered.

  “Can I pet him?” the boy asked.

  “No,” the owner said. “He’s shy.” She gave the boy a smile.

  The little boy and his parents moved away to something else of interest.

  “I know that voice,” Gramma said. Hanoi, 1968. She was with Ho Chi Minh. Gramma motioned for Andy to stay put. She hid her face behind her scarf and walked up behind the pig-walking lady.

  “Lovely day to walk your pig,” Gramma said. ‘He’s quite handsome.”

  “No speak English,” was the reply.

  Gramma repeated her statements in Vietnamese.

  “Gramma,” the woman said. “So good to see you.”

  “Giang,” Gramma replied, dropping her scarf.

  The women hugged. During the embrace Giang whispered some numbers into Gramma’s ear.

  Gramma repeated the numbers, and they nodded their heads in agreement.

  “Without your assist, Giang, Ho Chi Minh would’ve been around a lot longer.”

  “I did what I could.”

  “Take care of yourself and Petey, too,” Gramma said.

  “By the way,” Giang said. “I hear Poppy Gold is due to be released from prison soon.”

  “I heard,” Gramma said. "I also heard she may be out already."

  “You better be on the lookout, then. It is too bad she turned out like she did. You and her used to be good friends and workmates until she turned on us,” Giang said.

  “You never know what some people are really like until they get a choice like the one Poppy had. She just couldn’t resist the big money.”

  “Like I said, be careful, Gramma. Poppy always said she’d get you for turning her in.”

  “I will. Phur’oc la‘nh,” Gramma said as they parted. “And give Petey Pig a hug for me. God speed.”

  “Was that someone you knew?” Andy asked when they got together.

  “No,” Gramma said. “She was just a nice lady out walking her pig.”

  “Oh.” Andy was bewildered. She doesn’t tell me everything about this job.

  “Now. Let’s walk up to the Lincoln Memorial. One of my favorite spots in D.C.” Gramma picked up the pace and they headed up the steps to the Greek Doric temple containing the seated sculpture of Abraham Lincoln.

  A hushed crowd had already gathered around the white statue of the beloved sixteenth President.

  Gramma and Andy enjoyed their afternoon and early evening on the National Mall. Gramma took pictures for her scrapbook and to email to friends and family.

  “So much to see. So little time,” Gramma said when they returned to their hotel room.

  Before Andy could answer, Gramma’s phone was buzzing with another urgent message.

  “Who’s that Gramma? Lola? Dad? Mom?”

  Gramma read the text and deftly answered in return. “Nah. Just some guy looking for some numbers. Must’ve texted the wrong person.”

  She sent Red a ‘Get Lost’ message. He’s one persistent puppy.

  Red texted back, ‘Stick with me, Baby and you’ll eat off gold.’

  Gramma texted back, ‘Don’t wanna.’

  At a Chinese Restaurant

  “Thanks for bringing me here, Gramma. I love Chinese food.”

  “I know you do. Me, too. The food is delicious and the restaurant’s beautiful.”

&nb
sp; “I enjoyed our day at the reflecting pool, the Lincoln Memorial, and everything. What a great city.”

  “It is,” Gramma replied. “One of the best in the world. Although New York City, Jerusalem, Rome, Paris, and some others are pretty great, too. There’s so much to see all over the world and in our own country. From one end of the United States to the other, there are many wonderful places to visit. Travel as often as you can, dear Andy, but always come back to the good ol’ USA.”

  “Don’t worry. I will.”

  Their waitress arrived.

  “Lovely jacket,” Gramma said.

  “Thank you.” The waitress bowed. She handed them menus, explained the Chef’s specials, and nodded to Gramma.

  “Order what you want,” Gramma said to Andy. “Don’t be afraid to try something new. Just make sure you know what it is you’ll be eating. You don’t want to go ordering something too weird. Try something Cantonese or Jiansu.”

  “Okay. I think I’ll have the Siu mei platter. Sounds delicious.”

  “Let’s make that two and we’ll both enjoy it.” Gramma signaled the waitress.

  “Do you have a coupon for here, too?” Andy asked.

  Gramma frowned. She didn’t have a coupon.

  After Dinner

  “This Eight Precious Pudding is divine,” Gramma said. “After that big meal we just ate, you’d not believe I’d have space for dessert, would you, but I do. Interesting how that works.”

  “You always have room for dessert, Gramma. I’ve never known you not to eat dessert.”

  “You talkin’ about me? Are you sure? You must be thinking about someone else. maybe your dad. I think once in 1980 I was unable to eat dessert after dinner. I could be wrong though.”

  “Gramma. I’ve seen you put sugar on anything that’ll sit still for it and salt on your buttered toast.”

  “You must be mistaken. Yes, that’s it.” Gramma smiled. “You’re confusing me with someone else. Maybe your other gramma. Or some aunt or something.”

  The waitress brought the check and two fortune cookies. “This is yours,” she said, handing a cookie to Gramma. “And this one is yours,” she said to Andy. She bowed low and smiled.

  “Let’s switch,” Andy said. He reached for the other cookie.

  “No, no, no. No switching,” the waitress said sternly. “It’s bad luck.”

  Andy and Gramma looked up at her.

  They didn’t exchange cookies.

  “Hey, let me get your photo in here, Gramma. This place is awesome,” Andy said.

  “No photos tonight, please,” the waitress said. “Too many dignitaries in place. They get nervous.”

  “Uh. Okay,” Andy said. “She sure is bossy. Oh, my, can I still use that word?” He looked questioningly at Gramma and shrugged his shoulders. He looked around the room, wondering who there was so important they didn’t want their picture taken. And why is our waitress so cranky?

  Their waitress had a worried look on her face. Gramma made a motion for him to put his camera away. The waitress then relaxed and said, “Come on, open up fortune cookies.”

  Andy cracked his open first.

  “You have a bright future. Use the light to travel near and far,” he read. “Hey, Gramma, that sounds like something you’d say.”

  Gramma opened hers up and read, “Everything’s better with age. Enjoy it all.” She smiled. “So very true. Wise words. When I get old, I’ll probably understand the real meaning.”

  When Andy went to the men’s room, the manager came to Gramma’s table. “Turn your fortune over to the other side.”

  Gramma obliged. She read the numbers on the back, recognized them to be the same ones the Ecuadorian vendor gave her.

  “Is that correct?” the manager asked.

  “It’s exact,” Gramma said. She placed it in the manager’s outstretched hand. “They’ll be useful in more than one situation.”

  “Xie Xie,” the manager said. “Lemur Island.”

  “Dou itashimashite,” Gramma replied. “Sure ’nuff.”

  “Oh, and the meal is on us,” the manager said. “I heard you had no coupon. We’re so pleased you came into our humble establishment.” He bowed low.

  Back at the Hotel

  The light on their room phone was blinking, signaling a message.

  “I’ll get it,” Andy said. He listened to the message and relayed it to Gramma.

  “Someone named Ruthie wants you to call her right away. Who’s Ruthie, Gramma? Could it be the Ruthie who’s your old high school friend?”

  “Yep. She lives here in D.C. We’re gonna meet up with her tomorrow after we go to the zoo. I hope she hasn’t changed her mind.”

  Gramma called her friend Ruthie, and they talked for an hour, reminiscing about their years in grade school at the old Boro Building in Riverside and Junior High and Senior High School in Danville. They laughed and kidded, reminded each other of fun things they did and discussed their dear classmates, some of whom have passed away.

  “I better get off here or we won’t have anything to talk about tomorrow,” Gramma said.

  Ruthie got quiet.

  “Ruthie. Are you okay? Is something wrong?”

  “I can’t say it on the phone. You know what I mean. They’re taping everything. We’ll talk tomorrow.” She hung up.

  “What’s up, Gramma?” Andy asked.

  “I don’t know. We were laughing and having fun talking about old times. Ruthie got quiet. Said we have to talk about something tomorrow.”

  “Don’t you know any normal people?” He laughed.

  “Why, Andy. Such a thing to say. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  The Zoo in D.C.

  “I went to their website last night and got great info about the zoo. The site map is awesome. What do you want to see first?” Andy looked through the brochures for some ideas.

  “How about we go through the Visitor Center, then on to the giant pandas, off to the elephants and from there, we’ll see everything else we can while we’re here. Maybe Lemur Island. That place is great,” Gramma said.

  “Cool.”

  The giant pandas were nestled inside, enjoying the lower temperatures. Bamboo shoots were lying about them, some well chewed, others ignored.

  The visitors observed a nursing mother panda in her den, holding her panda cub in her lap. The bear sat with her back against a wall.

  “Lemur Island is fun,” Andy said. “I’m glad you suggested coming here.”

  “Someone recommended it to me.”

  Gramma and Andy walked around the area, enjoying the antics of the ring-tailed and red-fronted lemurs.

  A fellow tourist approached them. “I see you taking photos of your grandson. Would you like me to take one of the two of you together?”

  “That’s a wonderful idea. Thank you for offering to do that,” Gramma said. She handed him her camera.

  Gramma and Andy mugged for the camera.

  For one of the pictures, Gramma went so far as to put two fingers up for rabbit ears behind the unsuspecting Andy.

  Andy went to a vendor to buy lemur food.

  Kindly photo-taker leaned into Gramma and whispered, “Memorize these numbers. Don’t write them down. Make sure they match the ones you’ve already been given. They must be exact. If they aren’t, call me. You’ll need them in San Antonio.” He whispered something into her ear, waved goodbye to Andy and was gone.

  Chapter 10

  Spying At Good Friend Ruthie’s

  Gramma and Ruthie chatted away, the conversation reflecting decades of friendship and memories.

  “Remember when we used to climb the monkey bars and the boys would try to look up our dresses?” Ruthie said. “Girls weren’t allowed to wear slacks or jeans then.”

  “I do,” Gramma said. “Such bad boys. I remember at school, clapping erasers together to get the chalk dust from them so they could be used again. We’d go out on the fire escape and bang them around. That was such fun.”


  They talked about 4-H and Girl Scouts, the roller skating rink, Saturday afternoon movies and plenty of other small-town girl memories. Jump rope, Red Rover, hop scotch and other games were recalled with pleasure.

  “Life was so simple then,” Ruthie said. “Not like now.”

  “Maybe not like now, but it had its own problems. I wouldn’t go back in time for all the tea in China,” Gramma said.

  “Me either,” Ruthie replied. “I forgot to ask you. How’s Lola doing in grad school?”

  “Great. She’ll graduate after this semester with her Juris Doctor. My Lola’s gonna be a lawyer. Isn’t that awesome?”

  “Sure is. Give her my congratulations. By the way, where’s Andy? Didn’t he come with you?”

  “He did. We’re having a great time. Sightseeing and good food are at the top of our list. Andy went on a tour of the Bureau of Engraving and Printing with his friend Jeremy. You remember Jeremy, Ruthie. He went to high school with Andy. Well, Jeremy lives in D.C. now, so they went together to see the Bureau. I’ve been there so often I begged off this time.”

  “I remember Jeremy,” Ruthie said. “Nice kid. His mother lives in your Development neighborhood, right?”

  “That’s the one. Now. Ruthie. Tell me what’s been bothering you. I know something’s wrong. We can talk here and no one will hear us.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Ruthie said. “There’s nothing secret anymore. Phones are bugged. Conversations taped. On-line communications are copied and stored. E-mail is read and sent off to be stored who knows where by who knows who. Even snail-mail is being read by those who want to know everyone’s business. I can’t be sure someone’s not bugged my home.”

  Gramma put her finger to her lip to signal Ruthie to stop talking. She scribbled some notes on a pad indicating she should explicitly follow her direction.

  Ruthie looked surprised, but wrote, “Okay.”

  “Boy, I could sure use some iced tea. Do you have some?”