thoughts aren’t about the glowing bra or
the adventures she had with the Nazis.
My first thoughts of Grandma Laura always
are of her smiling. Smiling while we talked.
Smiling while she was on stage performing.
She never denied that bad things happen.
And she certainly didn’t smile talking
about the Nazis. Or about the wars.
But it was never long before a smile
returned to her face. And even singing
sad songs Grandma Laura always managed
to sing the song—to interpret the song,
to perform the song—in a way that left
the audience smiling, somehow happy.
And I think of the things Grandma Laura
specifically asked me to remember.
The night that Grandma Laura disappeared
seemed to me the same as many others.
We talked in her dressing room. She performed.
We talked later and then I went to sleep.
The next morning Grandma Laura was gone.
All her clothes and both suitcases were gone.
My dad swears he never heard her leaving.
Before Grandma Laura left, when we talked
in her dressing room, it was a talk that
she asked me to remember. She had changed
behind the screen. She came out in the bra
and a long green skirt. The bra was dark but
as she talked it warmed and started to glow.
“I want you to remember this,” she said.
“Will you try to remember what I say?”
I told her of course I would remember.
“Remember,” Grandma Laura repeated,
“that all the things in the modern world, now,
all the things that make today’s world modern,
existed way back, when I was your age.
Global commerce and communication,
global culture in art, architecture,
entertainment. And global politics.
All those things existed. But everything
was different. It was a different world then.
I mean before Nineteen Fourteen. Do you
know why that date’s special? Nineteen Fourteen?”
I didn’t. The only big date I knew
about the world was Nineteen Forty-One.
But I knew there was an earlier war.
I guessed, “Was that when World War One started?”
Grandma Laura nodded. “You’re very smart.
Before the Great War we had telegraphs
all over the globe. And every ocean
was crossed and re-crossed by giant liners.
Every major city had skyscrapers
that architects tried to make taller and
more beautiful than previous buildings.
Europe had the world’s first airline—zeppelins
carried passengers to all big cities.
All the things that make today’s world modern
existed way back, when I was your age.
But all the things were different in those days.
And I think that’s what the Great War really
was about. I don’t think it was about
Germany fighting the world. Or treaties.
Or any of that political stuff.
I think the Great War was about changing
the thinking behind the things in the world.
Changing hearts and minds behind the thinking.
I don’t think it was this country against
that country. I think the Great War, with its
new scale of killing, new technologies
of killing, new politics of killing,
wasn’t war in the human sense at all.
I think the Great War was monsters starting
to take the planet away from humans.
I don’t know if they’re what we Christians call
the Fallen Angels. Or what the Arabs
call Djinns. Or what science fiction people
call aliens from another planet.
But whatever they are they hate humans.
They use humans to spread death. And to change
this world from what it was in Nineteen Twelve
to what it is becoming here and now.
Things weren’t perfect when I was a kid.
It wasn’t Arcadia. There was grief
and sickness and injustice and madness.
But back then all things, even the bad things,
were human things. The world was a human
place. I’m going to tell you something dumb.
But it’s important. Do you understand
something can be dumb, but important, too?”
I wanted Grandma Laura to go on,
but I didn’t want to pretend with her.
I said I didn’t think I understood
how something dumb could be important, too.
Grandma Laura laughed. “That’s okay,” she said.
“Someday I believe you will understand.
When I was a kid—when I was your age—
we could take an elevator up to
the highest floor of a high skyscraper.
You could go to an office and open
the window. You could open the window
and breath fresh air and look straight at the world.
When you traveled by zeppelin the windows
in your cabin and in the lounge opened.
Traveling from Berlin to Paris you could
stand by the open window and look straight
at the world. You could breath fresh air. Windows
opened when I was a kid. You could breath
fresh air. You could look at the world without
inches of glass between you and the world.
It sounds dumb, but remember it. Monsters
don’t need fresh air. Monsters don’t need to see
things straight. There are a million differences
between the world that was and what is now.
Not just different things, but different thinking
behind things. And the hearts and minds behind
the thinking. Monster hearts and minds versus
human ones. Will you remember all that?”
I told Grandma Laura that I would try.
She smiled and rubbed my head. Her bra was bright.
She told me to come listen to her sing.
Even when she sang songs that sounded sad
the way she sang them somehow made you smile.
I’ll always remember Grandma Laura
smiling, making me smile, everyone smile.
She sang this song that night in her glowing bra.
It sounds sad, but at one point everyone
sang along. That was my Grandma Laura!
This is what Grandma Laura sang that night:
Let me tell you the good life
It’s been good to me
Let me tell you the great good life
It’s been good to me
I’m going down, down, down, down, down . . .
In a sea of happiness
Let me tell you the good life
It took it all out of me
Let me tell you the great good life
There’s nothing left of me
I’m going down, down, down, down, down . . .
In a sea of happiness.
I’m going down, down, down . . .
I’m going down, down, down . . .
I’m going down, down, down . . .
I’m going down, down, down . . .
In a sea of happiness—
I’m going down
Three little fishes
In an itty-bitty pool
Singing boop-boop,
Diddy-daddem,
Wannum, choo!
Three little fishes
And a Momma fishy, too
Singing boop-boop,
Diddy-daddem,
Wannum, choo!
“Swim!” aid the Momma fishy
“Fast as you can!”
And they swam and they swam
Right up over the dam!
But me, I’m going down, down, down . . .
I’m going down, down, down . . .
I’m going down, down, down . . .
I’m going down, down, down . . .
In a sea of happiness—
In a sea of happiness—
In a sea of happiness—
I’m going down
The End
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