The Time My Grandmother Pranked Me
The Time My Grandmother Pranked Me
Being Feisty
The Story
I’d originally planned to write about gratitude for Thanksgiving week. But while my stories about gratitude kept stalling, my Grandma Sophie seemed to be nudging me— her picture turning up on my phone; her name in stranger’s mouths. I could just imagine her calling down at me: “Hey! You haven’t written about me yet!” Then, while I was listening to a podcast, one of the hosts described a political candidate as “feisty,” and I thought, there’s the perfect word to describe my grandmother.
Grandma Sophie was born in 1919 into a family that eventually totaled ten children, and somehow survived the infamous flu epidemic. She grew up in rural Pennsylvania, taking care of the family and translating for her mother, who only spoke Polish. Famously, she met my grandfather (not the one I wrote about here- my Grandpa Mickey) at a train station when she was twenty years old. She and her friend were walking along when they met two handsome men in uniform— my grandfather, who was in the Air Force, and his brother. We’re not clear on who asked whom out, but I’m sure Grandma Sophie turned on the flirty feistiness hard. Grandpa Mickey didn’t stand a chance.
During the war, Grandma didn’t see her new husband for two and a half years. When he finally came home, he was a stranger to his own son, my uncle, who’d been born when Grandpa was overseas. In anyone else’s telling, this would be a tragic story. To Grandma, though, it was just a fact of life. “Mickey came home,” she’d tell the story. “And there he was, looking his own son, and the boy said, ‘Mommy, who dat man?’” This would be accompanied by a chuckle so deep and hearty that everyone in the room joined in. “Who dat man?” she’d repeat, her voice full of mirth, and we’d all laugh again. That was Grandma’s gift— to take something that could be sad or even traumatic, and find the nugget of humor.
Of course, by the time I knew her, she was a mother of four, a grandmother of nine (my sister and I were the youngest) and very comfortable wearing the crown of matriarch. One of her favorite jokes— which she pulled on every unsuspecting child who came through her door— was to say, in an engaged and exciting voice, “Would you like to play a new game? It’s called 52 Pickup.” She’d make it sound like the best game ever, so of course, the child would say yes. Then she’d take a deck of cards— always on the table next to her easy chair— and throw them all over the room. “52 pickup!” She’d cackle gleefully. “Now you pick up all 52 cards!” She’d watch the ensuing scramble across the floor with a smile that seemed half for the child and half for herself.
Even as she aged— she lived to be 99— Grandma Sophie wore her feisty crown. At my cousin’s wedding, she spent half the night on the dance floor— the Chicken Dance was her favorite— and the other half surrounded by a group of younger men, all quizzing her on baseball statistics. A decades-long Yankees fan, she knew every single answer. At my own wedding, she insisted on giving a toast even though we hadn’t asked her to, and she followed the DJ around the tent until he gave up and handed her the microphone. Fortunately, her toast— unvetted and unvarnished— was a hit. Just like Grandma herself.
Like stoicism, I think of feistiness as a trait of the Greatest Generation— or perhaps only of the people who survived it into old age. When the world is so dark, and tragedy around every corner— childhood illness; poverty; bloody world wars— what else can you do but lead with your bravado, humor, and a sense of fun?
The Character Trait
Feistiness is a cocktail of liveliness, energy, and self-assured resilience. Feisty people are easily riled into arguments, but also easily roped into fun. Sometimes confused with being outgoing or gregarious, feistiness deserves its own category, as it includes a form of resistance. When you’re feisty, you’re not only leading with your most expansive nature; you’re also deliberately turning from tragedy to comedy, from darkness into light.
Let’s Do Some Stuff Together
When thinking about the activity this week, it occurred to me that feistiness isn’t easily manufactured. Unlike joy or groundedness, there’s no shortcut. The best I can do is approach my toughest daily challenge in the spirit of my grandmother— a little shrug of “it is what it is,” combined with a dash of “how can I inject some energy and humor into this situation?”
Next time you encounter something difficult or stressful, try zooming back. Think of someone in your family’s past who survived something that seems impossible to you. Remind yourself what they did to cope. Chances are, feistiness was involved.
How can you cultivate this character trait for yourself?
Want more?
If you’re a parent, read children’s books with feisty heroes and heroines— Pinkalicious comes to mind, and so do Harold and George from Captain Underpants. Point out the way these characters interact with the world, and the resilience underneath their humor or gregariousness.
Sidebar— I just googled “feisty male characters” and all the results led me to pages listing ALPHA males. What the heck?!? Are only women feisty? Why can’t men be feisty? I’m sure there’s a feminist angle here, but I’m going to have to think through it. A future post!
If you’re a teacher, define the word “feisty” for your students. It’s an underutilized character descriptor!
If you’re a writer/creator, put a character into a challenging situation and use feistiness to get them out of it.
How did this work for you? Leave a comment below, and you might be featured in next week’s newsletter!
Last Week’s Leftovers
Last week’s post explored joy, and I recommended performing a random act of kindness to promote personal joy. My R.A.K. was giving an extra hand to my students. Band students in my schools bring their instruments back and forth on the bus, and some of them have early-morning duties around the school for Safety Patrol. Whenever I saw one of my students holding a heavy instrument, I offered to bring it to the lesson room for them. They were very grateful! It gave me joy to help them, and to see the smiles on their faces.
If you performed a random act of kindness in pursuit of joy, let me know in the comments!
Stuff You Might Like To Know
New Substack alert! The Cult of Perfect by Virginia Sole-Smith and Sara Petersen is EXACTLY what every young Gen X/elder Millennial needs at this stage of life.
Something making me feisty is my workout routine. I can’t say enough great things about Mossa Move. I’ve been doing their Blast (step aerobics), Fight (kickboxing), Groove (dancing) and Core (abs) for years, and they have the perfect amount of variety, energy, encouragement, and challenge. Best of all, every program is inclusive and gives options for all kinds of physical differences.
Here’s to us, in all of our imperfect, striving goodness.
Keep hoping. Keep caring. Keep trying.