I do most of my best thinking on the bike. And often after I have gotten bounced off the back of a peppy group ride or race once the serious climbing starts (something to do with that dreaded watts per kg ratio and basic physics). So it shouldn’t come as a big surprise to my faithful readers that the focus of this blog post changed dramatically on a recent ride along the St. Lawrence River. I was struck–on many levels–by Elder Bednar’s General Conference address, “In the Path of Their Duty.” It is one of many talks given in General Conference over the years addressed to the majority of members of the Church who struggle sometimes with being “no less serviceable.” But what started out in my mind as a blog post about the importance of working diligently along the path of your duty morphed, as I rode through Vieux Québec and along the coast, into a tribute to my grandmother.
I imagine what got me thinking about her was the discussion in Elder Bednar’s address about J. Reuben Clark’s talk “To Them of the Last Wagon.” As I thought about what it must have been like in the proverbial “last wagon”, I couldn’t help but break out in a large grin. Because that is absolutely where Mernice Bailey Bates would have been. And you know what? She would have been having fun! She would have cared less about the dust stirred up by the wagons in front of her; she spent her adult life living in a small house (that she and my grandfather built) drinking arsenic and lead-laced well water on what is now an EPA Superfund site, and still lived to the ripe old age of 97. By the time I finished my ride, I had thought of numerous reasons why hangin’ out in the last wagon with Grandma was infinitely more fun than riding up front with the stuffed shirts. And decided to write about them (the reasons, that is–not the stuffed shirts). So here’s to you, Grandma, from your favorite card-cheatin’, caffeinated soda-stealin’ and straight-faced lying’ grandson!
Number 1: Mountain Dew
Grandma had Mountain Dew. Lots of Mountain Dew. At a time when drinking caffeinated soda was a deadlier sin than drinking beer or even Postum. She drank at least one every day. Which she swore was why she lived to such a ripe old age. Who knows? Maybe something in the Mountain Dew was an anti-carcinogen, or at the very least an antidote to lead and arsenic poisoning. Problem was, there were only two hard and fast rules at Grandma’s house: first and foremost, the grandkids were NOT (and I repeat, NOT) allowed to drink any of Grandma’s Mountain Dew. (The second rule was that we were not allowed to use the indoor plumbing–we were relegated to the nasty outhouse that stood about 50 yards from the house. See Number 3 below.) Which, of course, made stealing Grandma’s Mountain Dew and guzzling it in the “summer house” all the more fun. It’s not that Grandma was a rebel–she was just ahead of her time. Case in point: although Sister Bates still turns a jaundiced eye toward the Coke that may or may be on my side of the fridge, I will note for the record that last week at our first Zone Conference, one of the beverage choices provided by the Mission Office was (wait for it) Pepsi! I would have loved to drink one in Grandma’s honor, but I settled for a Sprite. Curse that jaundiced eye.
Number 2: Face Cards
I still remember the day my mother, without warning, confiscated and destroyed all of our face cards. It happened after she listened to this talk during General Conference. Which is why for years afterwards you could find desecrated decks of Uno cards in our house where we had been forced to discreetly mark some of them as Jacks, Queens, Kings and Aces of all the different suits. Otherwise, how were we going to play Spades? Of course, Grandma didn’t seem terribly concerned about having cards that may or may not be ones “used for gambling.” In fact, spending time with Grandma was never complete without a rollicking game of Hearts. And the only thing better than “shooting the moon” was doing so because you cheated . . . and no one caught you. Of course, Grandma was the queen of cheating, but she seemed to enjoy getting caught more than getting away with it. Maybe she was just trying to keep us on our toes. In any event, everything I know and love about cheating I learned from my grandmother. (And no, that’s not a sentence I ever imagined writing.)
Number 3: Potty Humor
I grew up in a house with bookshelves that contained such ordinary and common children’s books as The Hardy Boys, Nancy Drew, and The Happy Hollisters. These titles rested alongside an Encyclopedia and random Church titles. There was also, however, an entire series of books dedicated to outhouse jokes and other “Western” humor. But having to actually use an outhouse during your summer vacation was no laughing matter. I still remember getting up in the middle of the night, exiting the camper that we slept in, and walking barefoot down the dirt road and then across a rocky weed-filled area to get to the outhouse, praying that your cousins were still asleep and wouldn’t come tip over the outhouse while you were using it. Grandma sure thought it was funny though.
Number 4: Christmas Socks
Every year growing up we would get a Christmas present from Grandma. It was always the same–a pair of hand-knit socks with a silver dollar in the toe. And every year we reacted the same–we would dig the silver dollar out of the toe and toss the socks in the scrap heap with the discarded wrapping paper and bows. We would clutch the silver dollar, visions of sugar plums dancing in our heads. Actually, I don’t even know what a sugar plum is. We were dreaming about licorice, Jolly Ranchers and Pixie Stix. Meanwhile, Mom was giving us stink eye and telling us how ungrateful we were. But we knew (or at least hoped) Grandma understood that no kid is excited about getting socks for Christmas–hand-knit or not. The real present was the silver dollar and the pile of candy it represented. And you can bet your last silver dollar that no one up in the front wagons was still chewing grape flavored Bubble Yum weeks after Christmas.
Number 5: Bettering the Ball
There is a concept in volleyball known as “bettering the ball.” Simply put, it means taking the ball however it comes to you and “bettering it”; i.e. passing or setting it in such a way that your team’s ability to score is improved. To me, Grandma’s ultimate legacy is that she “bettered the ball.” Was Grandma the most active member of the church? Probably not as we would think of it today. Did she like to swear a little (sometimes for real and sometimes just for laughs)? Yup. Did she have a lot of struggles in her life? Absolutely. It would be easy, spectating from a Church pew, to view her life as “less serviceable.” But I think the question we should always ask about others is whether they bettered the ball. And did Grandma “better the ball?” In my mind, the answer is a resounding yes. She took what life served her and she handled it. With courage, with determination, with humor and without excuses. And her children did the same, and hopefully passed on some of those traits to their children.
So let’s all raise a glass of Mountain Dew in honor of Mernice Bailey Bates. Here’s looking at you, Grandma!