“I have a grandmother?” Nancy looked quite surprised.
“Yes,” I said. I explained what I had done. Then I said, “And here’s your first letter from Granny. I — I think she sent you something else, too.”
Nancy opened the envelope slowly. She pulled out a letter … and a lot of photos of Granny’s farm.
I didn’t get any photos.
“Wow,” said Nancy. “I like getting mail.” She read her letter. “Gosh,” she said when she was done, “your grandmother doesn’t sound too old, Karen. She says she feeds the chickens every day. And sometimes she rides a tractor!”
“Will you write back to her?” I asked.
“Well … well, sure,” replied Nancy. “I guess I have to. But it will be fun.” She looked through the photos. “Your grandparents have a lot of animals,” she said. “Horses and cows and chickens and even a goat. I guess I should send your grandmother some pictures, too, shouldn’t I? I could send her pictures of our house and my room. Too bad we don’t have any pets.”
After awhile, I went home. I was glad my idea had worked. I knew I had done something nice for both Granny and Nancy. But why hadn’t Granny sent me any pictures? I could not stop wondering about that.
Oh, well. At least Nancy was happy. She had a grandmother and she was going to send her some pictures.
Maybe I should send Granny some pictures, too. I decided that would be a good idea. And while I was at it, I would take some pictures to show Grandma B. Then I could pull pictures out of my backpack for her.
Grandparents’ Day
Two weeks went by. I visited Grandma B four more times. I took pictures of Mommy and Daddy and Andrew and brought them to Stoneybrook Manor to show her. While I was at it, I sent copies of the pictures to Granny in Nebraska.
One day in school, Ms. Colman made another one of her surprise announcements. It was about fifteen minutes before the end of school. Ms. Colman stood up from her desk.
“Class,” she said, “I have an announcement to make. You may put your books away now so you can listen to me.”
There was a little flurry while we put our books in our desks. I wondered what the announcement would be. Ms. Colman looked sort of excited, so I had a feeling it was a good and special announcement.
I glanced at Ricky Torres next to me. We grinned at each other.
“My announcement,” said Ms. Colman, when my friends and I were quiet, “is that our class is going to give all the people at Stoneybrook Manor a special Grandparents’ Day.”
“Goody,” I said.
Ms. Colman smiled. Then she went on. “Grandparents’ Day can be whatever we make it. I thought we could put on a program, and make a gift for every person staying at the manor.”
I raised my hand. “What kind of program would we put on?” I asked, when Ms. Colman called on me.
“Whatever you want. Some variety might be nice. Maybe a skit, some songs, some poetry. I think you should break into groups. Then each group can plan one part of the program. The important thing is that everyone in this class must join in on Grandparents’ Day. If you are shy about being in the program, you do not have to sing or act. But you must still help make presents, and come to Stoneybrook Manor to pass them out, and to say hello to the people there. This is a class project.”
“Will we be graded?” asked Nancy from the back of the room. She did not even bother to raise her hand. And she sounded scared to death.
“Graded?” repeated Ms. Colman. “No. But you must be part of the project.”
I turned around to peek at Nancy. She looked just as scared as she sounded.
“So,” said Ms. Colman, “please think about what we could do in our program, whether you’d like to be in the program, and what kinds of gifts we could make. Remember that we have to make a lot of them.”
“Oh, boy,” I whispered to Ricky. “I can’t wait to be in the program.”
“Maybe we could put on a play about super heroes,” Ricky whispered back. “I would like to be Super Ricky and carry a sword.”
“I just want to be the star of some play,” I said.
When school was over I ran to Nancy. “Here is your chance to act,” I told her. “You can be an actress. You can be in a play on Grandparents’ Day. I want to be the star, though.”
I expected Nancy to say, “No, I want to be the star.”
That is the way Nancy and I are when it comes to acting.
Instead, Nancy’s eyes filled with tears.
“No,” she said. “I am not going to Stoneybrook Manor. No one can make me go there. I will not visit all those old people.”
“But this is a class project,” I reminded her.
“I don’t care. I’m not going in that place.”
“Not even to meet Grandma B?”
“Not even to meet Grandma B. I guess I will just have to be sick on Grandparents’ Day.”
I did not say anything. I knew Nancy would never do that.
Big News
After a few more visits to Grandma B, I discovered something. I discovered I was getting tired of Grandma B. I know that is not a nice thing to say, but it was true.
Why was I getting tired of Grandma B? Because here are the things she always wanted to do:
— make me listen to funny, old music, the kind with lots of violins in it.
— teach me how to do old-time dances like the waltz. Some of them had weird names, such as the foxtrot.
— look through her photo albums with her.
“Karen,” Grandma B would say, “you must learn how to do these things.” (She meant the dancing.) “And everyone should appreciate classical music. How else will you become cultured?”
I wasn’t sure what “cultured” meant. I did remember that once when I was sick with a strep throat, the doctor took a throat culture, but I did not think that had anything to do with what Grandma B was talking about.
Anyway, I did not like the violin music. I like radio music with rhythm and lots of drums beating — and words to it.
What I wanted to do at the manor was go to arts and crafts with Grandma B. Or read stories with her. Or better yet, make up stories.
So I was just a little tired of visiting my newest grandma.
I guess that’s why I skipped one visit to the manor.
This is what happened:
It was a Wednesday evening. The phone rang at the little house.
“I’ll get it!” I yelled.
“Indoor voice,” Seth reminded me.
“Sorry,” I told him. Then I picked up the phone. “Hello?” I said.
“Hi, Karen. It’s me, Kristy.”
“Hi, Kristy!”
“Listen, I’m calling a Krushers practice for tomorrow,” she said. “Can you come?”
I thought for a moment. I was supposed to go to the manor and visit Grandma B the next day. But I really didn’t want to listen to any more violin music. And I was tired of waltzing and doing the foxtrot.
“Sure,” I said to Kristy. “I can come.”
“Great! Thanks, Karen. See you tomorrow.”
I hung up the phone. I knew I would have to tell Mommy what I had done. I thought Mommy might be mad, but all she said was, “You’ll have to call Grandma B and tell her you can’t visit her.”
“Okay,” I replied.
That would not be easy. But I did it. I said, “I’m really sorry, but I have to practice with my softball team tomorrow.”
Grandma B sounded disappointed when I told her that. But she did say, “Good luck, Karen! Play well.”
Maybe Grandma B brought me good luck. I did play well the next day. So did Andrew. He’s on the team, too. We both hit the ball a couple of times. Andrew even got a home run!
Mommy picked us up after practice. She drove us back to the little house. (Andrew talked about his home run all the way.)
When we reached our house, I saw Nancy. She was in her front yard. As soon as she saw us, she ran to meet our car. She was waving something in the air.
“Hi, Nancy,” I said as I got out of the car.
“Hi! Guess what! Big news!” Nancy replied in a rush.
Big Mama
“Big news?” I repeated. “What is it?”
I climbed out of our car.
“It’s this!” exclaimed Nancy, waving the something in the air again. “Come on, Karen. Let’s go up to your room.”
I ran into our house and up to my room. Nancy followed me. We plopped down on my bed together.
“Okay,” I said. “Now tell me your big news. And what is that?” I pointed to the something. It was an envelope. Another fat one.
“This,” began Nancy proudly, “is a letter from your grandmother in Nebraska. From my new pen-pal grandma!”
“You mean you wrote to her and she wrote back?” I asked.
“Yup,” said Nancy.
Hmm. Granny hadn’t answered my letter yet.
“And this isn’t all she sent,” Nancy went on. “She sent me a pair of mittens with my name on them. She knitted them herself.”
“Really?”
Boy.
I couldn’t believe it. Well, that just wasn’t fair at all. Granny knitted me a pair of mittens with my name on them last year. I had thought that my Karen-mittens were very special. But I guess not. I guess Granny knits name-mittens for any girl who comes along.
“You want to see what’s in the letter?” Nancy asked me.
“Sure,” I replied, even though I did not care much.
“Okay,” said Nancy. “Well, the letter is three pages long. And your grandma sent more pictures! Here is one of the barn cat and her kittens. There are five kittens. And two of them look like Pearl. Pearl is the barn cat.”
“I know who Pearl is,” I said crossly.
Nancy did not notice that I was cross. She went on talking. “And here is a picture of your grandfather’s new plow. And this is the new decoration on the front door of your grandparents’ house. And this is Spinky the horse.
“Karen?” Nancy said.
“Yeah?”
“In her letter, your grandmother said I should decide what to call her. I started my letter to her, ‘Dear Pen-Pal Grandma,’ but she thinks that name is too long. So I thought and thought. I can’t call her Mrs. Engle. Not if she’s sort of my grandmother. And I can’t call her Granny, because that’s what you and Andrew call her. So I thought of a new name. I am going to call her Big Mama. Do you think she will like it?”
I was not sure. I thought Granny might not like it. But I did not tell Nancy that. I was just a little mad at Nancy. I was mad because Granny had knitted name-mittens for her, and sent her more letters than she had sent me.
So I said to Nancy, “Big Mama. Let me see. Yes, I think that is a perfect name for Granny. Start your next letter, ‘Dear Big Mama,’ and see what happens.”
“Okay!” said Nancy. She was smiling.
“Do you want to play with Emily Junior?” I asked. I stood up to open my rat’s cage.
“No,” replied Nancy. “I mean, no thank you. I am very busy. I better go now. I have to write to Big Mama. Also, I have decided to make a present for her, since she knitted mittens for me. I wonder what I should make for her.”
“I don’t know,” I said. “But tell me what happens when you get a letter back from … Big Mama.”
“I will!” cried Nancy. She ran out of my room and was gone.
Necklaces and Pencil Cups
“Class! May I have your attention, please? It’s time to put your books away.”
Ms. Colman was trying to get our attention. It was a Friday afternoon, and we were hard at work. What did she want? I wondered. School was not over yet. Maybe she was going to make another Surprising Announcement.
When we were sitting quietly at our desks, Ms. Colman said, “Today, class, we will start talking about our program for Grandparents’ Day. It is time to begin planning it. We have a lot of work to do.”
I glanced back at Nancy. She looked very nervous again.
“I want to do two things,” Ms. Colman went on. “I want you to decide what gifts to make for the people at Stoneybrook Manor. And if you are going to be in the program, I want you to break into groups and decide what you’d like to do. Each group should plan something different.”
Oh, boy! This was getting exciting! Grandma B and everyone were going to love Grandparents’ Day.
“Who has an idea for gifts that we could make?” asked Ms. Colman.
Natalie Springer’s hand shot up.
“Yes, Natalie?”
“How about pot holders?”
“Well, that is a nice thought, but the people at the manor do not have to cook. They eat in a dining room. Any other ideas?”
This time Ricky raised his hand.
“Cakes and cookies,” he suggested.
“Another good idea,” said Ms. Colman. “But a lot of the people at the manor are on special diets. Some of them cannot eat cakes and cookies.”
After lots of talking, we decided to make necklaces for the women and pencil cups for the men. We would make the necklaces by stringing painted macaroni onto yarn. We would make the pencil cups by gluing wrapping paper around soup cans.
“Good ideas,” said Ms. Colman. “Everybody, please remember to save soup cans and bring them in from home. Macaroni, too. Now you may break into groups of three or four, if you want to be in the program.”
I wanted to be in the program, of course. So did Hannie. So did Nancy, even though she is afraid of old people. She just could not pass up a chance to act in front of an audience. Guess who else joined our group. Ricky Torres!
“How come you want to work with girls?” Hannie asked him.
“Because I know you are going to put on a play,” he replied. “And I want to be in it. I want to be Super Ricky. I want to carry a sword.”
“But Ricky, we have not decided to put on a play about super heroes,” I told him.
“I think it’s a good idea,” spoke up Nancy. “I could be Super Nancy, and you guys could be Super Karen, Super Hannie, and Super Ricky.”
“Is that what we want to do? A super heroes play?” I asked.
“I want to put on a play about a little lost kitten,” said Hannie.
“Oh, that is so lame. That is girl stuff,” said Ricky.
“But I am a girl!”
“So what?”
In the end, we decided that we would have to think about our play some more. Whatever we did, I wanted it to be the best part of the whole program.
Paddington Bear
I missed another visit to Grandma B.
It wasn’t my fault, though. I had an earache.
When I called Grandma B to tell her I could not see her the next day, she said, “Feel better soon, Karen. Do everything your mother tells you to do.”
I knew she was a little disappointed, though. She also said, “I hope you will be able to come next time. I miss you.”
And I missed Grandma B.
Sort of.
* * *
By Tuesday, my earache was all gone. I was back in school. So that afternoon, I rode the bus to Stoneybrook Manor again. Grandma B was waiting for me at the door.
“Hello, hello!” she cried. She kissed my cheek. She smelled like cherry candy.
I kissed Grandma B. I discovered that I had missed her. But I certainly hoped that she was not going to try to give me any more culture. That was boring.
“Let’s go to my room, Karen,” said Grandma B.
Uh-oh. I could almost hear the violin music.
But when we reached Grandma B’s room, she did not turn on the record player. Instead, she sat down on her bed. I sat next to her.
“Karen,” said Grandma B, looking solemn, “it is almost time for the High Holy Days.”
The holidays? Not really, I thought. Christmas was more than two months away. Well, maybe to some people two or three months did not seem like much time. But it seemed like forever to me.
“I take the High Holy Day
s very seriously,” Grandma B went on.
“Oh, me, too,” I replied. I just adore Christmas. It is the best time of year. I like Santa Claus and presents and decorating trees. I like school vacation and eating turkey and singing Christmas carols.
“Well, I’m glad to hear that,” said Grandma B. She smiled. “I have always observed the Ten Days of Penitence.”
The Ten Days of Penitence? Did Grandma B mean the Twelve Days of Christmas? I wasn’t sure. Maybe there was something about Christmas that I did not know. After all, my two families do not go to church very often. But I did not want to admit that to Grandma B. The holidays seemed so important to her. So I nodded my head and pretended I knew what she was talking about.
Grandma B went on. She talked about Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur and a lot of other stuff I’d never heard of before. I did not pay much attention. And after awhile, I was very bored. I waited until Grandma B came to a stopping place. Then I reached into my backpack. I pulled out a copy of Paddington Marches On. I love Paddington Bear. I am trying to read all of the books about him.
“Grandma B?” I said. “Do you know who Paddington Bear is?”
“No,” she replied. “I don’t believe I do.”
“Well, this is Paddington,” I told her. I showed her the book. “He is a very special bear. He lives in England with a nice family. But he came from Darkest Peru. And he can talk. The Brown family doesn’t think that is strange at all. Do you want to read to me? You can read five pages, and then we will switch and I will read five pages to you.”
“All right,” said Grandma B. She began to read.
We spent the rest of the hour laughing about Paddington. I was glad that Grandma B liked him as much as I do. Still, I had to admit two things to myself. 1. I was relieved when we stopped talking about high holidays. 2. No matter what, I was still looking forward to Grandparents’ Day.
Adopted Grandchildren
It was a Friday, but it was a special one. It was a going-to-Daddy’s Friday. Late that afternoon, just before dinner, Mommy would drive Andrew and me to the big house for the weekend.