Grist For The Mill

                                              GRIST FOR THE MILL


      We had just finished dinner and were starting in on dessert and I knew that with

      the many sugary things on the table I was risking my daughter's disapproval.

      "Ok " I announced, "let's go around the room and each one of you will tell us

      what's going on in your lives." This always proved interesting because my

      grandchildren ranged in age from thirteen to thirty, from Middle School

      to graduate school and out.

      "You  start" I said to Haley, only because she was seated at the corner of the

      table! I knew better than to do anything that might be construed as favoritism.

      " So you went to visit some colleges?"

      "Yes, we went to Philadelphia, I liked the University there, Mom and Dad liked it

      too so I'm applying to it .But I have to send them an essay"she added with a sigh.

      "What about?' I asked.

      She shrugged, " Anything I want.. I don't know what to write about!"

      Her cousin, ..., already in college, nodded, "That was a problem".

      "Wait a minute," I said, "you can write about anything at all? How can that be

      a 'problem'? There are so many ideas out there...so much 'grist for the mill'. "

      "You always say that Grandma," said 13 year old Emily, "what does it mean?"

      "'Grist For The Mill'? In other words, ideas in their raw form, like wheat in a

      field before it is harvested is the 'grist'. It is then ground in the mill into flour, that's

      the  'plot' for the story...which is then used to bake..." I started to point to the

      chocolate cookies, cought a glimpse of my daughter Debbie, and picked up a

      granola bar instead..."these". In fact, there is a Grist Mill Museum right here

      in town...let's all go tour it!" My enthusiasm was clearly not contagious but was

      met with blank stares and excuses." It'll be fun. An adventure" I added. That

      made it worse.

      Debbie laughed, "Ma, a museum is not an adventure. White water rafting is an

      adventure. Zip Lining is an adventure."

      I didn't appreciate her sarcasm,and what was she talking about anyway...I learned

      how to add a  lining with a zipper into a jacket in my sewing class.

      Emily didn't like her mother's tone either. She moved closer to me.

     "It's OK Grandma, I'll go with you to the Museum."

      Ah, I thought, How sweet she is and even sweeter to know that there is justice

      in the universe; that my daughter's will have to deal with that 'mother/daughter'

      thing as I...as we all did. It could go on for months... years.

      They told me what 'zip-lining' was...so, didn't Tarzan do that a hundred years

      ago? I thought it but didn't say it.

      "Back to my point" I said, "ideas for an essay or a story are everywhere. You all

      know that I belong to a writer's group...I have a million ideas for articles or

      stories." As soon as those words were out of my mouth I was sorry.

      "Read us one," said Lenny. A chorus of agreement went up.

      "Well, uh...I uh..."

      Debbie stared at me, "Yes Ma, how come you never read us anything you write?"

      It wasn't just that Debbie was suspicious by nature, it was that she knew me so

      well, knew that I loved to share with all of them what I thought was interesting.

       Her eyes narrowed, "How come?"

       I racked my brain, "Uh, well, they still need editing...rewriting..."

       "That's alright Grandma" said Natalie, "We don't care if it's not edited yet."

       "Well, some other time." I said brightly," Now let's make our sundaes, the ice

      cream is melting." That did it for now, I thought, but I knew it would come up again.

      While they were busy with dessert I went into the living room and from the top of the

       bookshelf  I took my yellow pad and on the page under the heading;"Story Ideas" I

       quickly scribbled the words ;"Family wants to hear my writings...what should I do.?"

       Debbie came into the room, " Come on in Ma, the teapot is whistling".

       She startled me, I dropped the pad.

       She stared at it, "What are you doing?" she asked.

       "Nothing...just making out my grocery list. My voice sounded weak.

       "Your grocery list! Now?" She bent down, picked up the pad and read aloud "'Story

        Ideas. Family wants to hear my writings. What should I do?' Ma!"

       Bonnie came in, "What's going on?" She looked at the pad her mother was

        holding, " ' Story Ideas' "she read aloud, "Family wants to hear my writings.' "

        She clapped her hands, "Hey Guys !Come on in" she called.  "Grandma is

        writing about US!"

        They all came running in, laughing, "Grandma, you're writing about us!?"

        "Don't call me Bon Bon, Grandma, I hate that name!" It stuck when her 2 year old

        brother used it.

       "Did you write about my Graduation ?' asked Emily, just out of Middle School.

      "And mine?" asked Charles, a recent college graduate.

       And how  I pitched our winning game?' yelled out Neil.

       "Come, we'll all talk inside, "I said, leading them back into the dining room.

       Debbie walked beside me, "I'm not comfortable about this Ma" she whispered

       through gritted teeth," using my children..."

       "They're not all yours, only three are yours!" I whispered back. Even as we

       spoke I was mentally recording what she was saying for future dialogue.

       "OK, everyone " I began, "Yes, I do write about you...and a lot of other things.

       For instance, have any of you noticed that when you buy something the "Have a

       nice day" is now "Have a great day"? And that most banks now have a bowl of

       lollypops for us... and by the way Capital One has the root beer flavored ones but

       run out of them first..."

       "Ma!" She knew I was stalling.

       " And, yes, I do get ideas from my family. I looked at each one," because you

       my dears are my inspiration." I hadn't wanted them to know, thought it would

      inhibit them just as though there was a camera rolling in the room.."But" I added,
 
      with a nod to Debbie, " I never use your real names."

      "Call me Selena!" cried Haley.

      They all burst out laughing; "She was Justin Beiber's girlfriend." explained

      Natalie, and he wrote a song about her."

      "Many songs are written about loved ones" I said," remember "Coal Miner's

       Daughter?" They didn't.

       "Bruce Springsteen wrote about his father" said Bonnie. "Taylor Swift wrote about

        her boyfriend; ' Dear John'."

        " I read that he was very angry at her for that!" said Debbie. " Some people don't

        like to be written about!"
    
        "Poems also" I said. "Elizabeth Barrett  Browning, 'How Do I Love

        Thee ' " I recited.

        " Let me count the ways..." continued Bonnie and Natalie in a chorus.          

        I promised them that I would read them one of my stories the next time we

        were together.

       The following day I received this e mail,' Grandma, I decided that my

       college essay will be; 'My Grandmother, A Million

   Ideas from Grist to Grain to Granola '. Love you! Haley

      
                                                      THE END