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Monday, February 28, 2011

(These 5 Pounds Brought To You By) The Pot Roast at Gram’s Funeral

I don’t blame Gram for the number on the scale this morning.  It wasn’t entirely her fault.  I don’t mean to sound like a bad seed either.  I loved her very much.  My mother made the arrangements and they couldn’t have been more of a testament to her life.  Pot Roast is the epitome of comfort food and this tasted like Gram made it herself.  However this is the first time I've experienced funeral weight, most likely due to stress, two days spent driving, and, give or take, a week of comfort food.  

I loved her cooking, especially the chicken noodle soup and BLT sandwiches I got as a reward for taking down and washing her storm windows each spring.  It brings back vivid memories of her circa 1950's tiled countertop and the view of laundry hanging outside through the kitchen window of her apartment. 

After the service, we chatted about her 93 years of life over gravy and mashed potatoes.  It was like love on a plate, almost like one last Christmas together.  I had seconds and dessert.  When we got back to my mother’s house, I had thirds and more dessert.  Later that night we treated my mom to dinner at Zafirro's Pizza.  That was a lot of eating.  Gram would’ve liked that.

"Oh Joseph, you're so skinny!"
When I visited in summertime or at the height of cyclocross racing season, she would say in her slightly cracking voice, “Oh, Joseph you’re soo skinny.”  That was more a gauge of my fitness than any scale, wattage number or record hill-climb time.  The last time I saw her, over Christmas, she didn’t say anything about my race face, or lack there of. 

For better or worse, she always told it like it was.  Because of that, the entire family very much respected her opinion.  A non mention of being skinny was her way of saying I was just right.  Believe me; she would’ve said straight out if she thought I looked fat.  She wouldn’t even bother beating around the bush saying that maybe I hit the cheese and Kettle chips hard in the month between the last CX race and Christmas.  Still, I always want Gram to say, “Oh Joseph you’re skin and bones.”

I look in the mirror.  I can see some ribs, skin and bones.  My jeans are a bit saggy.  My winter paunch is there, but not as big as previous years.  I’m starting to feel that fitness feeling again.  I thought I’ve been working out pretty hard adding yoga twice a week and some running to the regular regiment of spin classes and long weekend rides.  I logged 12 ½ hours of workout time since I got back from her funeral on Wednesday.  Just two weeks ago I was 163.  What gives?  Where’d these 5 pounds come from?  The only thing I can assume is that Gram’s looking down right now and saying, “Oh, Joseph you look just fine to me.”

In memory of my Gram: July 8th, 1918 – February 18th, 2011

2 comments:

dean schmiedel said...

my condolences bro...i remember and will remember her well...

peace-
deano

Joe Biker said...

thanks Deano.