I used to dread calling my grandmother on her birthday. My mom died on that day and so every time I’d call, she’d start with “Well, you know, I wish Nancy was still here.” And that always bothered me and usually made me tear up, so I would wait as long as I could to call. I was pretty sure that I was the last grandkid to call each year.

Twelve years ago today, I called GiGi1 to wish her happy 89th birthday. She answered the phone upbeat and excited, telling me about all the people who had called her earlier in the day (including my siblings and all of my cousins, letting me know that I was, in fact, the last grandchild to call.) But she closed with a surprising statement, subtly mentioning that she “helped someone old today.” I was intrigued and asked for details.

GiGi was at the gas station filling up when she noticed an “old” man struggling to take the money up to the cashier. She took the money up for him and they struck up a conversation. The man was recovering from a double knee replacement. He was upset with his doctor that they’d done both knees at the same time, and told him that “next time, we’re doing them one at a time.” The doctor told him “Mr. Jones. You are 99 years old. We aren’t doing another knee replacement.”

I tell that story often, but realized I’ve never written it down. I love how many lessons about attitudes, expectations and perspective are packed into one story. GiGi passed away a few years ago, living to the age of 98. Today would have been her 101st birthday. There are many stories to tell, but this is the story I tell about her most often and wanted to share it on her birthday.

Bob Wertz is a creative director, type designer, Ph.D. student and researcher living in Columbia, South Carolina.

  1. Growing up, I called her “Grandmother Caldwell.” My cousin called her “Granny.” But once the grandkids arrived, she became “GiGi.” ↩︎