Off the Cuff: Grandfathers, gurus and geckos

What is the world coming to? Shevardnadze quits! Shevardnadze, that very paternal, grandfatherly figure who once adorned the side of Gorbachov in the glory days of glasnost and perestroika, could do no wrong. With a face like his, he had to be a good man.

Grandfatherly……….good man………..hmm………memory snippets of my own grandfather click open and shut. A long, white beard and a smooth bald pate edged with fringes of white wavy hair.

It's always a treat to watch him stand every morning in front of the mirror to comb his few remaining strands of hair and beard meticulously, lovingly, gently.

I still reach out and mess it all up, just when he's almost finished and he still swats me with the comb. We wrestle. And my grandmother announces breakfast. Round 2 of 'Wrestle Mania' is promptly postponed in favour of food.

We do this every year when I go visit. We also play cards. Both of us cheat and love every minute of it. He's 90 and I'm well past my teens but that doesn't stop us from behaving like toddlers once a year.

Speaking of toddlers, watching my grand-parents fight warrants a front row seat. They got married in ancient days when brides were spring chickens of 14 and grooms were a fast maturing 18.

Well the old hen packs a pretty mean punch, still and though my grandfather is now completely deaf, he manages to get the gist of things well enough to retaliate. They go at it hammer and tongs, while the rest of us collapse giggling on the sidelines. This occurs at least twice every day.

Best of all, though, is sitting at his feet and having deep philosophical discussions late into the night, when everyone else is asleep. I ask many questions and we argue. He is a priest and priestly ninety year old insights are invaluable. I always seem to come away richer.

My other grandfather died at 99. His latter years were dominated by senility. Convinced that he was in dialogue with angels and archangels, he would rise every morning at 4am to murmur his prayers and padded around the house for the rest of the day speaking to dead people.

One of my cousins was going through a particularly difficult time in her marriage. Every time he caught sight of me, he would call me by her name and provide unsolicited marital advice. I quickly took mental notes for future reference since, at the time, I was still single.

In his earlier, more lucid, years he would deign to spend time with his young grand-children. For some reason, he thought it would amuse us to watch him go on a gecko-killing spree around the house. He held on to us with an iron grip and carried a long, bamboo stick which he used to spear slithering geckos high on the walls and ceilings.

This blood sport continued until he ran out of geckos, or until one of us broke free, whichever was first. He enjoyed playing cards too, and he played to win. No concessions for children. He treated us as equals, except during the gecko hunts.

Getting back to Shevardnadze, wonder if he's going to talk politics with his grand-daughter now or will he just let her mess up his hair instead?