(Our granddaughter is now at camp. Because it’s November, it’s not taking place in the woods, but in a nice old mansion in the suburbs. My wife and I are taking an evening stroll and just happen to be in the vicinity. My wife pulls herself up to the fence.)

Wife: “I see them all! [Supervisor] is there, [Granddaughter’s Friend] is there, and look! There is [Granddaughter]! They seem to be playing some board games. Everything looks fine!”

Me: “Honey, you do realize it is perfectly legal just go inside and ask questions?”

Wife: “Are you crazy? I would be awkward to keep checking on her!”

Me: “And what exactly are you doing now?”

Wife: *beaming* ” I am spying! Totally different!”

I was attending a funeral. The elderly mother of a friend had died, and close family members were reading personal messages. A granddaughter, about fifth or sixth grade, declared that it wasn’t so problematic that Grandmother had dementia:

It meant she sometimes forgot whether she had dealt sweets or not and they walked away with two pieces of candy.

(My grandmother is incredibly stubborn and refuses to listen. She is also in serious debt because she has proven time and again that she cannot handle her money. She had to move in with us because she ended up filing for bankruptcy. Money is also tight for us at the moment, so we rarely splurge on things like eating out. This happens at dinner one night.)

Grandma: “You know what I want for dinner sometime? I want you to go to [Italian Restaurant] and get a big thing of their salad and bring it home.”

Me: “Just the salad?”

Grandma: “Yes.”

Me: “And what would the rest of dinner be?”

Grandma: “What’s wrong with salad?”

Me: “Nothing, it just doesn’t fill me up.”

Mom: “I can buy a Caesar salad kit and some [Italian Restaurant] dressing at the store for you when I go shopping. Actually, I might have some here.” *gets up to look*

Grandma: “No, I want the salad from [Italian Restaurant]!”

Dad: “Mom, [Italian Restaurant] is all the way on the other side of town. We are nowhere near [Italian Restaurant].”

Grandma: “How far away is it?”

Dad: “Half an hour to forty-five minutes, depending on the time of day and how you hit the lights.”

Grandma: “No, it’s not.”

Dad: “Yes, it is! A lot has changed since you left the area twenty years ago! Besides, [Italian Restaurant] is really expensive and there’s nothing worth getting there.”

(My dad only says this because he hates Italian food.)

Mom: *returning with dressing* “Look, [Grandma], I have the dressing. I will buy a Caesar salad for you and you can put this on.”

Grandma: “No. I want a salad from [Italian Restaurant]. I’ll pay for it myself.”

Dad: “With what money?”

Grandma: “My money.”

Dad: “You don’t have any money!”

Me: “If you really want to go to an Italian restaurant, we can go to [Local Independent Italian Restaurant]. It’s just as good as [Italian Restaurant], but it’s only ten minutes away.”

Grandma: “No! I want salad from [Italian Restaurant]! It’s the best!”

(My parents told her no several more times. She ended up pouting in her room the rest of the night and all of the next day.)

(My grandmother and I are both big Harry Potter fans. She calls me the evening of my seventeenth birthday.)

Grandma: “How does it feel to be seventeen?”

Me: “Well, I’m now a dancing queen and I can legally perform magic outside of Hogwarts.”

(She laughed and we ended up exchanging butterbeer recipes. Geeky grandparents are the best.)

My grandfather recently passed away. Known for his frugality, he bought his burial plot in the cemetery at his summer home’s church when they were having some sort of sale, and he got a “super deal.” His brother-in-law and sister also bought a plot at the same time, and his brother-in-law passed six years prior to my grandfather’s death. My grandfather was a businessman and dabbled in many trades and industries and owned most of his own businesses. His most prominent one — and the one that lasted the longest and was his passion — was real estate.

We gathered around the gravesite for the burial service. Afterward, we wanted to walk to my great-uncle’s gravesite, which we could make out in the distance, but was still in view of my grandfather’s gravesite. In an effort to lighten the mood, my cousin said the following:

“Corner plot, direct line of sight from Old Uncle Jack, plenty of parking on both sides, beautiful greenery, location at his favorite church on the Cape… He really was a real estate man. Location, location, location!”

We all laughed and appreciated his humor after an emotional and somber week.