Grandma's Story

Here's an excerpt from the first of Peter Drucker's favorite books, "The Spectator," the archetype of a person with the greatest breadth of life, Drucker's grandma.

When she was young, Grandma was very delicate, small and handsome. But when I saw my grandmother, she was in her twilight years. There was no sign of her youthful beauty, but she still had bright reddish-brown curls, which she was proud of. She was widowed before she was forty, and she was very ill. He seemed to be constantly out of breath because of a severe rheumatic fever which had permanently damaged his heart. Arthritis had left her crippled. All her bones, especially her fingers, were swollen and sore, and her ears were not working because of her advanced age.

However, all this did not stop her walking around the pleasure. She walked the streets of Vienna, rain or shine, sometimes by tram, but mostly on foot. Her "weapons" were a large black umbrella that served as a walking stick, and she was dragging a black shopping bag that weighed almost as much as she did. It was filled with a large number of mysterious little parcels, all wrapped up perfectly: some tea for a sick old lady, stamps for a little boy, half a dozen "fine" metal buttons from an old coat for a tailor...

There are six sisters in my grandmother's family, each bearing at least four daughters, so there are more nieces than one can count. All of these nieces were brought up by their grandmother in one way or another when they were young, so they are very close to their grandmother, even to their own mothers. Among the people she visited were old servants, poor old ladies, former classmates who had studied music with her, old shopkeepers and craftsmen, and even servants of friends who had died many years ago.

Once Grandma wanted to visit "Little Paula" who lived in the suburbs. The old widow is the niece of her cousin whose grandmother has passed away. She said, "If I don't go see this old woman, who else will?" All the family members, young and old, including her own daughter and a host of nieces, called her "Grandma."

No matter who she was talking to, Grandma's voice was cheerful and kind, with old-fashioned courtesy. Even after years of absence, she still remembered what was on people's minds. Once, when she saw Miss Olga, the housekeeper next door, after not seeing her for several months, she asked her, "How is your nephew? Have you passed the engineer exam? He's quite a boy, isn't he?" Occasionally she would go to the carpenter's house and ask him, "Mr. Colbier, didn't the city teach you more about house taxes? Did it work out? Weren't you upset about it the last time we met?" The old carpenter's father had made the grandmother's wedding for her dowry.

There was a hooker on the corner by Grandma's apartment. Grandma spoke as politely as the prostitute. The other people ignored the prostitute, except Grandma, who would go up to her and say, "Hello, Miss Lily. It's cold tonight. Find a thick scarf and wrap it around yourself." One night, she noticed that Miss Lily had a hoarse throat, so she dragged her old bones upstairs, rummaged through the closet for cough medicine, and then climbed down to give it to the prostitute. There were hardly any elevators in postwar Vienna, so Grandma had to climb up and down.

One of Grandma's nieces was very upset and warned her, "Grandma, it's beneath you to talk to a woman like that."

"Who said that? Grandma replied, "It's beneath you to be polite. I'm not a man. What can she do with a stupid old woman like me?"

"But Grandma, you sent her cough medicine!"

"You always treat venereal diseases like a plague. There is nothing I can do about it, but at least I can cure her cold quickly, before the men catch a bad cold from her."

.....................

When Grandma died, she left behind a "grandma anecdote," just as she had in life.

One day, when the wind and rain were blowing furiously, she was strolling about as usual, rain or shine, until she came up the driveway. The driver saw her and tried to go around, but he tripped her anyway. So the driver quickly got out of the car and helped him. Grandma was unharmed, but she was terrified.

The driver said, "Old lady, can I take you to the hospital? It would be better to have a doctor examine it."

"Young man, you have been very kind to a silly old woman," replied Grandma. "You might as well call an ambulance. There's a strange woman on the bus, and it might damage your reputation -- people are terrible. ' By the time the ambulance arrived 10 minutes later, Grandma had died of a massive heart attack.

My brother knew that my grandmother and I were close, so he called me to tell me. He said in a plaintive tone, "I have very sad news to tell you... Grandma passed away early this morning." But as soon as he began describing the events leading up to his grandmother's death, his tone changed a bit, and he finally smiled: "Think about it. Only our baby grandma would say that. She's in her 70s, and she's worried that riding in a car with a young man might cause him an affair!"

I laughed, too. But one thing occurred to me: a 75-year-old woman wouldn't hurt the young man's reputation, but how would he explain it to the world when an old stranger died in his car?