And although they may be of the traditional variety, they might wear tracksuits and Reeboks six days a week, drink Metamucil, vote conservative, and think that wiping schmotz off my face with a wet thumb in public is a mitzvah - who says that they're in any way behind the times?
Recently, my grandparents have added a new book to their list of favourites. Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, Deuteronomy, anything in the "Chicken Soup for The Soul" series, and now, Facebook.
Yes, Facebook. And like the hamisha homshey torah, they use Facebook to teach me valuable life lessons. Of course, they have instilled a firm set of principles to which I happily adhere. I don't kill. I don't cheat. I don't covet my neighbour's wife (often). And now, thanks to the Good Book, Facebook, I do not give my number out online. Her answer might seem quick and crass, but that's just her way. That, and it isn't easy to type with long nails and loads of flea market bling.
You might think it odd that my Bubbie has a Facebook account. At first, I would have agreed. No grandmother should ever be privy to pictures of her living legacy lapping up liquor, with one nipple hanging out, a cigarette in the left while playfully giving the finger with the right. Luckily, I don't go to
You should add her. Seriously. She is presently looking for "random play", and she's just about the best lady I know.