Tales From Her Little Black Book

Amelia, my grandmother, is in her nineties. Strong, silent, and beautiful she has always been my rock. In her weathered face resides a type of beauty that comes from hard work and a lifetime of loving others. Growing up in Brazil and then moving to New York with my grandfather to live the "good life" I always thought that I knew everything about her. I lived with her for most of my life until I moved in with Rubio, the man who I thought would be my "forever prince". He was a hard body with a full head of dark hair. He had that Latino swagger that made heads turn even when he wasn't trying to. My grandmother didn't trust him. When I told her that I was going to live with him, she shook her boney finger at me and said nothing. She didn't need to. She didn't approve of him. I wish I would have had her wisdom and courage. When I showed back up on her doorstep with my bags and eyes full of tears she pointed to my bedroom and grabbed a suitcase. I followed her to my room.

I sat down and started to tell her of my heartbreak when I came home to Rubio and Calista, one of my best friends, in the heat of passion. "Neta, (Portuguese for granddaughter) you must learn to look beyond the surface. Think more about what you want in a husband, instead of a lover". My face burned hot with embarrassment. No matter how old I was, anything close to the discussion of sex with my grandmother made me nervous. She laughed at my redness and told me that I needed to remember that I was not the only hot-blooded woman in the family. " Grandmother, You are so quiet and always about hard work. What can you know about men?". With a twinkle in her eye and a small laugh, she went to her room. She returned a moment later with a small black book. The pages looked frail and yellowed. 70 years of time passed since it was first used. "What is this?". "Read it Neta. You will understand more after you read it. Take a nap, then read it when you wake. I am going to make you some feijoada". Feijoada is a Brazilian black bean stew. Good Brazilians eat it every Saturday. It was the comfort I needed. I had learned much Brazilian culture as a child and I spoke fluent Portuguese. I was worried though because the Portuguese she spoke as a child would not be easy for me to read and understand. I decided to read it later.

I put the little book on the corner of the bed and laid my head down. I closed my eyes but all I could think of was that little black book. I sat up and fluffed my pillows and stared hard at the corners long tattered with age. I opened the book and was amazed at the beauty of my grandmother's handwriting. It flowed in comparison to the scratches of a rheumy-eyed old woman I had read growing up. In her beautiful script was written: "January 1943 Alfonse Alvarado. Saint Sebastion beach. Marcel Marcos, Mogi das Cruzes, Cinema. Thiago Andreas, St. Lucas Park. The list went on and on for two years. I stared in wonder as I read. Most weekends my grandmother had 2 or 3 suitors. Some were regular dates, others were not. I couldn't believe my eyes. In 1943 alone, my grandmother dated more men in one month than I did my entire high school career. As I read I noticed a small photo tucked under a page. In brown tones was a stunning beauty looking back at me. She was holding papaya in one hand and my grandfather's hand in the other. "Ivan Ricardo Batista and Amelia Santos, July 1945" was written on the backside. It was a picture of fairytale love. I wasn't sure what my grandmother wanted me to learn but I could smell the feijoada bubbling away on the stove. I decided a short nap still wouldn't hurt and nodded off.

When I woke, I discovered fresh bread and mango juice had been set out, and steaming feijoada was cooling on the stove. "Nana", I called. "I'm awake". She pattered her way to the kitchen. "I looked at your book, I'm really confused. I thought that you said that you and grandfather knew from the first moment that you would always love each other! I thought you were a village girl, and shy!". "I was for a time", she replied, "but you need to know, Neta, that there is often more to one's story than what you have been told. When I was a young girl, Sao Paulo was not home to 33 million people, no, but it was still a very large city. Rich Europeans were moving here to live cheaply. The Praça da Sée was a huge business center and there were many things that made it popular. There Catherdral Metroplolitain was under construction. There were many single, strong, young men in town. Around the world, the USA and Europe were involved in the Second Great War. This hurt our businesses and the money that came from there. My father wanted me to marry well as I was his only child". I knew this much of the story but needed to know more. "Okay, but why did you date so many people?" "You see Neta, my father came into some money. 20,000 reals to be exact. He wanted me to see that there were many types of people. He wanted me to understand that men would go to great lengths for money, but even greater lengths for true love.". "Okay, so what did grandfather do?". "He let it out that he had made a large profit from a building contract, and that he wanted to marry his daughter off before he was too old to enjoy grandchildren. Most people thought it wonderful as my mother had died and he was lonely. He wanted to see what kind of suitors would come. He told them that he would set the date and that they needed to know that he would have to approve each of them first. It wasn't so bad." I was so stunned that my feijoada was falling off of my spoon. "Nana, isn't that terrible? Didn't you feel like a bride out for the market?" "Not really, most girls were competing and hoping for a date. I had them lining up. Many of them brought gifts hoping to catch my heart". "How did you decide on Grandfather?" "Well after almost 2 years of courting, my father let each man know that they would not have one penny of the money. It was mine to do with as I pleased. They were shocked. Your grandfather however told my father that he could keep every penny to himself and that he would provide for me. That was how my father knew that Ivan was the man for me. He loved me, not my father's money".

I was shocked but also impressed at my great-grandfather's wisdom. My grandparents were married for more than 50 years and survived wars, political problems, and even moved to a new country together. When my grandfather died she told me that she was a one soul loving woman. She said that it was going to be easier to love a ghost than risk hurting living flesh. She could never love another man. I was thankful for her courage and strength. At this moment I was thankful that she saved her little black book. Every page was a lesson that she learned and one that I would gain strength from to wait and find my own soul to love. "If he doesn't see you, and only you, Neta, he doesn't see at all. That was all I needed to know. ~ The End.