I am my Grandmother

I will be 29 in six months. Thats an interesting milestone. One that has not yet been fully revealed, nor realized, in all of its adult glory. Ive accomplished so many defiant goals in my twenties alone - lived abroad, got married - and subsequently divorced - maintained a successful career as a make-up artist, moved to the east coast - and yet now, here I sit, pondering this impending age bracket, and thinking only of what it is exactly that I have not accomplished.

My Grandmother was a story teller. Literally and figuratively. She was a children's entertainer for 20 years, and the creator of the Huntington Beach Public Library’s Story Hour - featuring the incomparable "Lollipop Locamotive". This spectacle of costumes and harpsichords included atleast 50 different puppets each with individual voices, and landed my grandmother as star of her own public access cable show. Isabel Marion Phillips was a (bottle) red-head, brash, loud, hilarious, and fascinating. At the time, she seemed the most fearless woman I'd ever seen.

Growing up, my sister and I shared a bedroom almost into high school, which was always convenient when grandma would spend the night. As a captive audience, she had a habit of keeping us up way past our bedtimes, regaling us with tails of her rambunctious youth. One particular evening, she insisted on teaching us the "right" way to curse, much to the dismay of my mother who interrupted her ten year old daughter at midnight, giggling and practicing the correct usages of such distinguished phrases as "damn straight" and "damn skippy."

My Grandmother was a performer, and loved the stage from an early age. She also posessed only a casual acquaintance with the truth. As far back as I can remember, Grandma patently insisted that she had not only starred in the Wizard of Oz as one of the munchkin extras, but that she was in fact the tiny actress who informed us all that every time a bell rings, an angel gets his wings, from Its a Wonderful Life.

Now, it took me a long time to do the math on this. Never mind that ZuZu Bailey was played by Karolyn Grimes, and NOT Marion Phillips, but had Grandma been five years old in 1946, she would now be pushing 137 years old. Her age was always a source of mystery and debate. When she died at 84 years old, I believe on her deathbed that she was still claiming a very sexy 67 - you know, in case any suitors came calling.

She didn’t lie, she told stories. She lived to make people laugh, and kept life interesting, even if that meant adding a few colorful details. Her narratives were always better than the truth could ever possibly be.

When we talk about Grandma now, its always with a laugh, a smirk, and a sigh. We miss her, and her vitality. I want that reputation - one of spark and vibrance. I will be 29 in December. I have lived a mildly eventful life, spent my fair share of time in the spotlight, and told a few stories in my day. Yet, I want to live the life she didnt get to. I want to back up my mouth with fact. I moved to the East Coast to embark on an adventure, and thus far I feel like I have let her down. I want to conquer this town, and instead Im allowing the same demons, the same doubts, and the same mindless drama to supersede my bold change of coast, and change of heart.

This is me saying that the time has come to live the life that wakes me in the night. Reckless abandon and subsequent passion are in my future. And when people ask me my age, will I tell them Im actually a very sexy 23?

Damn straight.