My Grandfather, the Monster

Written for Firefly, Stories Out Loud (November)

[dark comedy]

My grandfather was a monster.
Not like a bad monster. Maybe monster is too strong a word, though he did look like a white version of Shrek. Just trade the Scottish accent for Italian-American one and you got him.

He wasn’t always a monster, at least not in my eyes, at least not until the year 2000.

He was always big and tough and loud. People feared him. He towered over most of our family and could beat me in arm wrestling with his pinky. There were rumors he once bent a railroad tie with his bare hands. He told stories about his brother punching him in the stomach every day “to harden it up” for future fights. He got jumped by, let’s just say, a “gang,” who shattered his leg so badly he had to live in the hospital for nearly a year.

But he was always a teddy bear to me. He was the family’s protector. The patriarch.
Until one day…

It was the year 2000, Y2K if you will. I was seventeen and I was hot and I didn’t know it. I had a hot boyfriend and I drove a hot-girl car. Tanning beds and caffeine pills were what we could call self care now. Gas was cheap, we burned CDs. The twin towers still stood.

One day I got a call from my grandfather.

“I get to pick 2 guests to come with me to Little It’ly next week to meet Harrison Ford. We let him film in the yard. I picked you and Aunt Dina. I’ll pick yous up.”

Before I share my reply to him, I know what you’re thinking. Yes, my grandfather owned a concrete plant on Staten Island.

I was thrilled to be invited. Sure, I liked Harrison Ford, but I wasn’t obsessed at the time. I knew him best from Indiana Jones. I did not yet realize at age 17 how hot the man was, and looking back, I’m glad I didn’t realize. It would have been real awkward for me to try to make sexy archaeology jokes in front of my grandfather.

What I was most thrilled about was not Harrison Ford at the time. I was so, so honored my grandfather picked me as one of his guests to join him to meet Hollywood royalty. Out of the lineup of grandchildren, aunts, uncles, cousins, and friends, I did not know how I made the cut, but damn did it make me feel special.  

I told everyone in school. I got dressed up and wore my best cheap body spray. Pop Pop drove us into the city and parked in Little Italy practically right outside the restaurant.

I was vibrating with excitement. The restaurant was empty, so I figured we were just early. My grandfather never drank, but he ordered wine. He also ordered linguini with clam sauce which I thought was a weird choice before meeting a celebrity, but what did I know.  

After some time at the table in the empty restaurant, Pop Pop leaned across and said:

“I brought you two here today for a reason.”

Dina and I looked at each other with tears in our eyes, thankful to be recognized by him.

He cleared his throat, now teary-eyed himself, and continued.

“I brought you two here because…it shouldn’t have to take me lying about meeting Harrison Ford to get to spend time with you two.”

I wanted to throw up. I was devastated, emotionally curb-stomped.

Dina and I looked at each other in disbelief. I didn’t know whether to be angry or sad. I was just in shock. My own grandfather, my hero, lied about Harrison Ford just to spend time with me?

Who lies about Harrison Ford?
He told me I was spending too much time with my boyfriend and not enough time with family. He told Dina the same. He thought he was teaching us a lesson about quality time, but all he did was teach me to never trust him again. Boy, did that backfire.

Of all the celebrities? Harrison Ford?

Let’s just say it was a silent car ride home. I told my friends that Harrison didn’t show up. I was too mortified to tell them my own grandfather lied to me. To this day, I am sure that some of my high school friends still think Harrison Ford is a dick, but I had no choice.

This story is fresh in my mind because Harrison Ford is everywhere again. Not only that, but there is something about him playing an adorably grumpy old man in Shrinking that really makes me think of Pop Pop. I still don’t see appreciate the lesson he was trying to teach me, and Harrison Ford now just serves as constant reminder of what a monster my grandfather was.

Imagine the dinner we could’ve had. The stories I would tell my friends. I could have even gotten an autograph.  

Instead, I just have this story…
about a man who lied to me…
because he loved me.

That’s the thing about monsters.
Sometimes they’re not trying to hurt you—
they just don’t know how else to love you.