I haven’t written about my grandmother in a while now. She recently moved in with us… it’ll be a month this week. But, more on that in another post. Today, I’m introducing a new section on the blog called “Conversations with Grandma”. This thought came into mind this past weekend after I shared the following status on my personal FB page:
My grandma tells the funniest stories. I should start a blog called “Conversations with Grandma”.
My friends said I should just go with it on this blog because it’s not just sharing stories, it’s documenting them. Documenting what she tells me. It could be funny. It could be about life. Her life. Our lives. Our history. And some day, it’ll be shared with my children and generations to come by leaving the footprint here on the blog.
So, here’s the first story I’m documenting here. We were sitting at Columbus Park in Chinatown, NYC over the weekend enjoying the beautiful weather when she told me this random story. I think it was sparked by all the different types of people she saw sitting around the area.
Her thought started with: back in the day, when we first moved to New York, there were mostly white and black people. Now most of everyone you see here are Chinese. And continued on to to share this story:
Once a long time ago when I used to work in the factories and lived in chinatown, a white guy walked up to me and kept pointing at my finger. I thought he was crazy. I ignored him and ran as fast as I could to work.
The guy followed me. I couldn’t believe how fast he was.
When I got to work everyone asked me why I was out of breath. I told them I was being followed by some weird white guy who kept pointing at my fingers & his hand. They all said he thinks you’re not married.
Turns out the guy thought she wasnt married and was trying to tell her “I’m not married either so why not go hand in hand together.”
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