the Russian Prime Minister, my grandfather and I
I've been particularly irritable this weekend, but I realize I am especially easily annoyed by one person in my family, my maternal grandfather. He lives with us, which means I see him every day, and it's hard for me to like anyone I have to see that often. Beyond that, he's the person in my family I connect the absolute least to. I find him to embody many of the character traits that drive me bonkers about people. He's depressing, always talking about how he's old and sick and decrepit. If feeling sorry for himself wasn't enough, he must have some kind of news feed that provides him with bad news from around the world. Top priority is, of course, Russian current events, always of an upsetting nature. He walks around the house giving soapbox speeches to anyone willing to listen (I use the term "willing" loosely, meaning anyone with hearing capacity and within earshot) about how Russia is being run by crooks and what an asshole traitor Putin is. Russia has a remarkable history of having the misfortune of being ruled by asshole autocrats pretty much since its founding. This is man who came of age under Stalin's rule and spent 60 plus years of his life living in a country that came into existence thanks to a ruler whose affectionate nickname was "the Terrible." Having mass murdering fuckheads in power is kind of Russia's thing. My grandfather has no reason to be surprised. But fine, if it's his desire to stay in that terrible loop, what can I do? I don't want to hear it. Tell me something else. Doesn't one of his annoying and unfortunately scented lady friends have some pleasant family news? Maybe a grandchild born with flippers? I don't know. If the simple retelling wasn't enough, he spends his free time calling up various friends and recounting the story to them. While he does this, he yells at them, as if one of his buddies doesn't believe that Putin is a bad guy. I honestly cannot figure out why anyone is friends with him.
Consistent negativity is one annoying thing. His hovering presence is another. I hate anyone being around me constantly badgering me with questions, such as this thanksgiving gem:
grandfather: What animal is that you're cooking?
me: spinach.
Any kind of interaction like the one above is inevitably followed by a "ah, that's very proper. Good job." I find that SO patronizing, it shakes me to the core. On the scale of things I hate hearing so much that I literally have to restrain myself from punching the person who said is that, followed closely in second place by mother telling me that this, that or the other is "something girls just don't do!" I am an adult. I do not need to hear that something I'm doing is correct or proper or good unless I was struggling to do it earlier.
My grandfather also has the bad habit of giving useless advice. What makes it particularly useless is that when he gives it, you're clearly in the middle of doing it already. You'll come home and try to find something for dinner so you'll stick your head in the fridge. "Are you hungry?" Grandfather will ask. "There's food in fridge." "Tired?" he'll poke his head into the family room as you sprawl out on the couch with the remote in one hand. "Why don't you watch some television?" Forgive me for not being impressed with the extraordinary level of genius.
Giving unsolicited advice is considered a Russian tradition, possibly a national pastime. One joke tells of one person asking another "Can one have intercourse out in the middle of the Red Square?" The answer, "No way, everyone will drive you crazy with their suggestions."
Most of the time I just try my best to limit my interactions with him altogether, but I noticed that over the holiday I've been particularly more snippy. While making gravy (an activity I realized brings me inordinate amounts of stress) I mutter that anyone not cooking Thanksgiving dinner needed to leave the kitchen. When he kept crowding me I asked him if he had a reason to be in the room. "I'm just getting lunch," he said. "Or are you going to forbid me to step foot in here at all?" He added bitterly. "I would like to," I answered. "but I'm told it's considered in poor taste to do so."
During Thanksgiving dinner, my mother announced a new rule. No bad news during our holiday feast. As soon as the words left her mouth, my grandfather opened and the following sentence jumped out:
"Did you hear about the murder yesterday?" I know that the proper response was not to laugh, but I almost have to admire his blatant disregard for the rules. It almost makes him rebellious, if it wasn't the 14th conversation that day about Putin. Recently, my mother actually told him that she hears about the guy so much, it feels like Putin is living in our house.
I've come to recognize that as much as he annoys the crap out of me, possibly more than any other person I have to interact with, I owe him a certain level of respect because he is family. Not only that, but he has been through enough of his life to warrant having me take a deep breath and try as hard as I can to listen to the annoying bullshit he needs to get out. I'm not going to say that he's earned me giving a crap about what he says, but he has earned me pretending to listen. At the very least, he raised my mother, who is remarkably less annoying considering they share significant amounts of genetic material. In fact, I should thank him because having my mother grow up with him has influenced her own parenting, part of which is the lassez-faire attitude that I'm pretty sure is what allowed me to develop a very special bond with her.
All this is far easier said than done. I hate to sound dramatic, but everyday is a struggle. I've gotten my feelings out, but I still have no clue as to how to handle this. I want to be a good granddaughter, the respectful kind he deserves in his old age.
Consistent negativity is one annoying thing. His hovering presence is another. I hate anyone being around me constantly badgering me with questions, such as this thanksgiving gem:
grandfather: What animal is that you're cooking?
me: spinach.
Any kind of interaction like the one above is inevitably followed by a "ah, that's very proper. Good job." I find that SO patronizing, it shakes me to the core. On the scale of things I hate hearing so much that I literally have to restrain myself from punching the person who said is that, followed closely in second place by mother telling me that this, that or the other is "something girls just don't do!" I am an adult. I do not need to hear that something I'm doing is correct or proper or good unless I was struggling to do it earlier.
My grandfather also has the bad habit of giving useless advice. What makes it particularly useless is that when he gives it, you're clearly in the middle of doing it already. You'll come home and try to find something for dinner so you'll stick your head in the fridge. "Are you hungry?" Grandfather will ask. "There's food in fridge." "Tired?" he'll poke his head into the family room as you sprawl out on the couch with the remote in one hand. "Why don't you watch some television?" Forgive me for not being impressed with the extraordinary level of genius.
Giving unsolicited advice is considered a Russian tradition, possibly a national pastime. One joke tells of one person asking another "Can one have intercourse out in the middle of the Red Square?" The answer, "No way, everyone will drive you crazy with their suggestions."
Most of the time I just try my best to limit my interactions with him altogether, but I noticed that over the holiday I've been particularly more snippy. While making gravy (an activity I realized brings me inordinate amounts of stress) I mutter that anyone not cooking Thanksgiving dinner needed to leave the kitchen. When he kept crowding me I asked him if he had a reason to be in the room. "I'm just getting lunch," he said. "Or are you going to forbid me to step foot in here at all?" He added bitterly. "I would like to," I answered. "but I'm told it's considered in poor taste to do so."
During Thanksgiving dinner, my mother announced a new rule. No bad news during our holiday feast. As soon as the words left her mouth, my grandfather opened and the following sentence jumped out:
"Did you hear about the murder yesterday?" I know that the proper response was not to laugh, but I almost have to admire his blatant disregard for the rules. It almost makes him rebellious, if it wasn't the 14th conversation that day about Putin. Recently, my mother actually told him that she hears about the guy so much, it feels like Putin is living in our house.
I've come to recognize that as much as he annoys the crap out of me, possibly more than any other person I have to interact with, I owe him a certain level of respect because he is family. Not only that, but he has been through enough of his life to warrant having me take a deep breath and try as hard as I can to listen to the annoying bullshit he needs to get out. I'm not going to say that he's earned me giving a crap about what he says, but he has earned me pretending to listen. At the very least, he raised my mother, who is remarkably less annoying considering they share significant amounts of genetic material. In fact, I should thank him because having my mother grow up with him has influenced her own parenting, part of which is the lassez-faire attitude that I'm pretty sure is what allowed me to develop a very special bond with her.
All this is far easier said than done. I hate to sound dramatic, but everyday is a struggle. I've gotten my feelings out, but I still have no clue as to how to handle this. I want to be a good granddaughter, the respectful kind he deserves in his old age.