STATEN ISLAND, N.Y. — After months of doing FaceTime calls with Grandma, I miss not seeing her in person. In view of her restaurant-loving soul — Lillian turned 102 in October — it would be nice to reintroduce you to her when she was at one of her primes in life — the septuagenarian years.
After my grandfather passed, Grandma had to start doing things for herself, like driving. The age aside, this was a particular challenge as Lillian will admit herself she has no sense of direction. So Grandma took a course and on the winding, wide open roads of her adult community, Greenbriar II, where she learned how to hit the road.
Our trips to restaurants were governed by their roadway presence: Grandma could not make left-hand turns so we’d have to map out our dinner journeys by jug handle and right-handed approaches. It took us a long time to get places, but we did it. She even figured out how to find my Aunt Alice’s Toms River home and how to navigate to Aunt Grace’s little ranch in Leisure Village — independence at its best.
Grandma’s introduction to driving society was met with mixed reactions. To heck with the honkers behind us on Burnt Tavern Road. And bless those souls who patiently waited for her to gun the Buick over the double-yellow line to get to the Pizza Hut on the other side of the highway. Terrifying moments, but we live to tell about it.
Coming back from dinner she eased the car into the garage until there was a “tap tap” on the windshield. That sound came from a coffee scooper attached to a string that hung from a rafter, a contraption hooked up by a kind neighbor. It made the gentle signal to stop, a necessary device as she had seen for herself what it looked like when folks misjudged and drove through the back of their homes.
Around the peak of Grandma’s driving days, I came up for a visit from college. She wanted to show off her new confidence on the road with a more distant restaurant in her sights. Lillian envisioned a leisurely meal at the place formerly known as The Old Mill a town or so over with a continually giggling Aunt Grace and Aunt Eleanor.
Grandma propelled us successfully over roadside and vale. Back in Brick, she broke out the strawberry liquor and poured it into little cordial glasses. We could all use a tipple after that trip.
West Brighton near Bement Avenue, Dec. 23, 2020. (Staten Island Advance/Pamela Silvestri)
I think about the luxury of walking to restaurants and small markets in my West Brighton neighborhood. They’re right down the block, not even 200 feet away from home. It was my grandmother who pointed that out when we bought our house, admiring the fact that one did not have to drive anywhere.
West Brighton near Bement Avenue, Dec. 23, 2020. (Staten Island Advance/Pamela Silvestri)
But walking on Forest Avenue past empty storefronts, particularly around Bement Avenue — the 99 cent store, ACE Hardware, Duane Reade, On Your Mark’s Cafe and chocolate shop, the Pretzel Factory, former Project Brunch — makes me worry. With the state’s restrictions and a general fear of venturing out, it may be a much longer commute to dine out.
Keep in touch.
Pamela Silvestri is Advance Food Editor. She can be reached at silvestri@siadvance.com.
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December 27, 2020 at 06:00PM
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