Sadly, I only had the opportunity of knowing my Grandma Buncher, for the first 10 years of my life. She was a loving woman, but aloof, and limited in her expression of emotions; at the time I recall thinking she was the mean Grandma. Fastidious, and obsessive, visiting her house always had requirements. There was thick plastic on all living room furniture, (in the summertime my little sister and I would call them the Fart Furniture, because our flesh would stick to the plastic and when we moved it sounded like a party in the bathroom.) There were very expensive glass dishes for wrapped candy and even smaller plates upon which you would be required to place the plastic once the wrapper was open. One piece of candy ONLY, so, My Grandma Buncher would add ahead of time, “Choose carefully, because there will be no spitting out of your mouth if you chose the wrong flavor.” This warning did cause great consternation at the time! She had a Grand Piano in the living room but also reminded us, that the only fingerprints allowed were on the keys of the piano, and the only people to touch the keys were those who knew how to play concertos. We had no idea what a concerto even was, and was afraid to ask, so it was hands-off. BUT there was a softer side, also. My Grandma Buncher would create any flavor of “POP,” for us, as she had glass containers of various flavors, seltzer water, and this little machine that made air bubbles. The saving grace of our visits to her house was entering her kitchen, one at a time, and inventing our own “POP,” (In Pittsburghese, POP is Soda or Coke)
As my Grandma Buncher entered her kitchen, it was as if she had transformed into another person. She smiled, even giggled, taking our hands and hugging us. “What concoctions shall we create today”, she happily asked, and albeit it took time for both my little sister and me to understand the word CONCOCTION, we both knew it had something to do with how many flavors could we mix to make our own tasty delight of “POP!” Busy selecting the flavors wiping and re-wiping the already clean glasses would be the time when Grandma Buncher actually had conversations with us. One message I still remember, as she and I stood in the 1950-ish green painted walls and the white subway tile floors, of her kitchen, was the idea of NEVER ASK A QUESTION IF YOU ALREADY KNOW THE ANSWER. My Grandma Braff insisted, that education was based on a foundation. If you already knew the answer and understood the truth of your answer, then ask something else, SOMETHING to add to your knowledge. Handing us our homemade “POP,” (which of course could be sipped while in the kitchen), the final words of advice sounded like this: “We all have “CONVICTIONS about truth, but those are just an emotional response to truth…TRUTH, is the easiest thing to discover, BUT many times more difficult to CONVINCE other people…NEVER stop trying.”
So far this year, we have suffered 272 mass shootings, according to Gun Violence Archive. From Friday afternoon to Sunday, at least nine people were killed and another 47 were injured in eight mass shootings in six states, according to data compiled by CNN and the Gun Violence Archive. A woman was killed and three others were injured when an SUV struck a parked car and tossed it into demonstrators during a protest in the Minneapolis neighborhood where a Black man was fatally shot earlier this month. (CNN) YET, in states like Texas abortion is barely legal. On May 19, 2021, Governor Greg Abbot signed Texas Senate Bill 8 of the 87th legislature, a heartbeat bill that will prohibit abortions once a fetal "heartbeat" is detectable, which often occurs before a woman knows she is pregnant. (Wikipedia) I read this, (my stomach gets those nasty feelings of “butterfly’s), I know WHY it is easier to murder and maim, slaughter and silence those of us living, I see the HYPOCRISY of those who decry abortion, but delight in GUNS, and Getting Even…and I begin to ask WHY…but am reminded of my Grandma Buncher’s words of NEVER ASK A QUESTION IF YOU ALREADY KNOW THE ANSWER. Holy Shit!
