My dear grandmother, Baba, fell the other weekend. She probably tripped and smacked her forehead into a concrete wall in her sewing room in the basement. My grandfather, Champ, rushed her to the hospital for a once over. A few scans later they determined that she was spunky, resilient, and mostly uninjured. The next morning she woke up with two black eyes and a nasty bruise on her head. Apparently, that's just where the blood goes.
That concrete wall got me once. I was a little kid and a slipped (probably rushing) down the basement stairs. I don't recall it well, but I don't think I was stoic. I'm guessing I balled my eyes out.
The worst thing, in Baba's opinion, about this fall was that it happened right before Russian (Orthodox) Easter. She wasn't able to go to all the ceremonies and sermons, which is very disappointing. Easter is her favorite holiday.
Champ's birthday just came and went again, as well. I called to wish him well, and in classic Baba, ended up talking with her about her run in with the wall for most of the call.
My coworker remarked that there's just something special about that generation. They seem to take everything in stride. I'm willing to bet generation X (or whatever I am) will not end up being known for its stoic demeanor in the face of adversity.
Rock on, Baba.
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