Sweetpea
Bluelighter
My grandpa’s name is Vicenzo but everyone called him Jimmy. He got drunk while we were playing darts and he sat at the bar emotional complaining that no one called him his real name. From that day on, he tried having people call him Vicenzo at that bar.
He was from Brooklyn, he moved to California when I was about 10. The only way I knew of him before this, was when my mom would put me on the phone to make me sing “Somewhere over the Rainbow”. I sucked at this by age of 8.
The day he arrived I hugged him like I knew him forever. My brother would always imitate that scene while saying “OH GAWD CARRIE” because he said it was gay because I didn’t even know him.
The day he arrived he hid money all around the house, inside the saltshaker, under lamps ect. When the game was over he handed me extra money and my brother and sister didn’t see. We began a very silly, loving relationship.
I would visit him at his old people complex where it was cheaper for him to live. He hated living there because he would complain that everyone was boring. He also thought he was a playboy and would always brag to me by showing me pictures of 50 year olds.
Arriving at his apartment, it would be filled with the smell of Pal Mal (no filter) cigarettes and Frank Sinatra would be blaring like Ranchero music in a car on the street. And never bring him in the car; he smokes with the windows up.
You could always count on the smell of macaroni and meatballs. He would serve me and watch me eat.
He always loved to dance with me in the living room and tell me I was beautiful and that if he were younger he would marry me. One time he told me he loved salsa music and was learning to dance to it. I asked him if he liked my haircut while throwing my hair around like a whore.
We’d always walk to the liquor store to play the daily three. He plays the same numbers every time. He says if you do it that way, you’ll definitely win by the end of the year. Then we would walk through the old people complex while he talked to everyone and say, “This is my girlfriend” and laugh like he didn’t say it 2 weeks before.
One of the funniest things about him is that he would fumble around with all his remotes trying to turn off the blaring Frank and turn on the TV so he could show me what he taped. One time it was a child singing on Star Search and he got all-emotional again
He told me he was going to leave me everything he had in his apartment when he died. So when he would buy something new he would say “ Look what I got for you” in a taunting voice.
When my friends were around I would tell him to tell us the story of when he smoked pot and was driving over the Brooklyn Bridge.” I felt like a monkey” I would do it to make my friends laugh, but he was a good sport. They were good sports when he chased me around the room with a blow horn.
He did end up leaving me everything in that apartment.
Those tender times dancing with him in his living room, him teaching me to make meatballs, and just being him, warm my heart many times. A time like today
He was from Brooklyn, he moved to California when I was about 10. The only way I knew of him before this, was when my mom would put me on the phone to make me sing “Somewhere over the Rainbow”. I sucked at this by age of 8.
The day he arrived I hugged him like I knew him forever. My brother would always imitate that scene while saying “OH GAWD CARRIE” because he said it was gay because I didn’t even know him.
The day he arrived he hid money all around the house, inside the saltshaker, under lamps ect. When the game was over he handed me extra money and my brother and sister didn’t see. We began a very silly, loving relationship.
I would visit him at his old people complex where it was cheaper for him to live. He hated living there because he would complain that everyone was boring. He also thought he was a playboy and would always brag to me by showing me pictures of 50 year olds.
Arriving at his apartment, it would be filled with the smell of Pal Mal (no filter) cigarettes and Frank Sinatra would be blaring like Ranchero music in a car on the street. And never bring him in the car; he smokes with the windows up.
You could always count on the smell of macaroni and meatballs. He would serve me and watch me eat.
He always loved to dance with me in the living room and tell me I was beautiful and that if he were younger he would marry me. One time he told me he loved salsa music and was learning to dance to it. I asked him if he liked my haircut while throwing my hair around like a whore.
We’d always walk to the liquor store to play the daily three. He plays the same numbers every time. He says if you do it that way, you’ll definitely win by the end of the year. Then we would walk through the old people complex while he talked to everyone and say, “This is my girlfriend” and laugh like he didn’t say it 2 weeks before.
One of the funniest things about him is that he would fumble around with all his remotes trying to turn off the blaring Frank and turn on the TV so he could show me what he taped. One time it was a child singing on Star Search and he got all-emotional again
He told me he was going to leave me everything he had in his apartment when he died. So when he would buy something new he would say “ Look what I got for you” in a taunting voice.
When my friends were around I would tell him to tell us the story of when he smoked pot and was driving over the Brooklyn Bridge.” I felt like a monkey” I would do it to make my friends laugh, but he was a good sport. They were good sports when he chased me around the room with a blow horn.
He did end up leaving me everything in that apartment.
Those tender times dancing with him in his living room, him teaching me to make meatballs, and just being him, warm my heart many times. A time like today
