She married my grandfather when I was seventeen. Because it was my paternal grandfather, whose last name I bore, and because her first name is Alice, I found myself sharing both names with her. I was miffed. Or downright irritated. Incensed that she had married my grandfather, who, I thought, should have remained married to my grandmother. And further annoyed that, in one bold stroke, she stole not only my grandfather, but also my first and last names. The AUDACITY! That was just way too personal for an impetuous teen-ager to bear, so I politely kept her at arm's length.
She, however, was not so small. She stood firm, holding on to both my grandfather and my name, while simultaneously reaching out to me. The Audacity!
She must have, in her youth, read the Aesop Fable in which the wind and sun battle to see who can get the coat off of a man. The sun won; gentleness triumphed over brute strength. Alice applied the sun over a period of years; I warmed up to her, and discovered a delightful, audacious, adventuresome woman.
Since then, I have discovered that Audacity should be her middle name. After my grandfather died in 2004, Alice began racing sailboats. To celebrate her 70th birthday--seventieth, mind you--she fulfilled a lifelong dream by buying some Harley-Davidson boots, signing up for riding lessons and then taking a solo spin on a Harley.
And, when we met her for a meal the other day, she wore a Yankees shirt! This was no accident--she is well aware of my hatred for the Yankees. Nonetheless, she intentionally pulled that shirt out of her closet and then marched in and sat down right next to me, wearing the horrid thing. The audacity!
Happy New Year to Alice, whom I love!
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