Old people are funny

And by old people, I mean both of my grandmothers.
My Grandma Joanne is my mother's mother. Looking back, it explains a lot. Graham Cracker, as I came to call her, was nuts. My uncle retold a story at her funeral about a phone conversation that they had. My aunt was not home, and my grandmother was happy to talk to anyone who answered so she began telling stories (picture Estelle Getty in Golden Girls saying 'Picture it. Peoria IL. 1945.)
"You know, when I was a waitress back in the day, men used to slap my ass all the time. One time, a guy slapped me on the ass so I slapped him in the face."
My uncle later recanted the story to my aunt who, without blinking an eye, said, "My mother was never a waitress."
I had a fetish when I was in high school where I loved to prank call Graham Cracker. I almost think that in some sick way, she looked forward to these calls. My favorite was where I was Gloria from Dallas Texas, and I was calling from the National Bingo Association. I was doing a poll where I was trying to see if Bingo Players across the United States wanted a second Free Space. "Sapphire...Sapphire, is that you?" She would be so excited that I would admit that it was me, and I would settle in for a round of embellished half-truths about her life.
My other grandmother, Mary, was the practical and silent type. She was the kind who wouldn't say a word, but when she was ready to leave, you would find her standing by the door with her purse on her arm. I would often wonder how long that she had stood there before anyone noticed.
Mary had a roatary phone that she had up until she was 90 years old. Normal children would let idiosyncracies like the fact that she had a collection of thimbles from different states and a cookoo clock that after thirty years sounded more like a frog than a bird, go. But not my dad or his siblings. They decided that after ninety years on this earth, that my grandmother needed a regular phone. The ultimate kick in the proverbial balls came when they not only got her a phone, but the kind that had the enlarged numbers on them. I stopped counting how many calls that we would get on the weekend mornings that would begin with "Charlie? What the hell? Did I dial this thing right? I can see that that number is a 3. People on the moon can see that that number is a 3...Charlie?"
If these are the Golden Years...then welcome.