Home / The Amazing True Adventures of My Grandma

The Amazing True Adventures of My Grandma

Please Share...Print this pageTweet about this on TwitterShare on Facebook0Share on Google+0Pin on Pinterest0Share on Tumblr0Share on StumbleUpon0Share on Reddit0Email this to someone

If you looked up “little old lady” in the dictionary, you’d probably see a picture of my grandma. She’s as tiny as a tack and just as sharp.

A few nights ago she was robbed. While sitting on her couch watching TV, a young man broke the glass on her door and barged in. He laid a pistol against her temple, laid her down on the couch and asked for all her money. “You can have all the money I’ve got,” she said, “but I only have $2.50.” The robber grabbed her purse, rummaged through her wallet and found that she was telling the truth. Disgusted, he took the $2.50 and moved her to the bedroom. He threw my grandmother onto the bed and covered her head with a blanket while he began looking around for valuables.

She began screaming as loud as she could for help. The dog began to bark loudly. The thief went to the other room hoping to find something of value. Grandma got up quickly, found her jewelry box, and hid all of her more expensive jewels. She jumped back into bed and threw the covers over her head again. As the thief walked back into the room, she asked him, “Son, have you accepted Jesus Christ as your personal Savior?” He said he didn’t want to hear nothing about that and told her to lie still.

Grandma returned to screaming for help and began to also pray for safety. The thief found the jewelry box and took a handful of the leftover cheap costume jewelry. He then asked my grandmother if she had a car. When she answered in the affirmative, he told her she was going to drive him to an ATM so she could take out some cash for him. “An AT…what?” she asked. “Son, I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.” Sure enough, as the thief looked through her wallet again, he saw no sign of any bankcard. Exasperated, he left the house and fled to safety, with $2.50 and some cheap costume jewelry.

This story is completely and utterly true. It happened just a few days ago. At first I was overwhelmed with the knowledge that my grandmother came so close to being hurt, or raped, or killed. Then I became awed that this little old widow had such spunk that an armed robber would leave her home with essentially nothing and not lay a finger on her. Where I would have lain in bed wetting my pants and sobbing, she has the audacity to hide her jewelry and ask the man if he knows Jesus.

Here’s hoping the next 40 years gives me such courage.

Powered by

About Mat Brewster

  • Sir Brewster, that is an amazing story and your grandmother is one of the most amazing people I “know.” She’s 10x tougher than I will be on my best day. Jack Bauer could learn a thing or two from her.

    I am glad she escaped serious injury that night- I hope she is hanging together as tough today as she did that night. That is really amazing.

  • Thanks. We are all very relieved that she’s ok as well. She’s quite a woman, that grandma of mine. She’s got more balls than I’ll ever have.

  • Susan

    My Grandpa came to the US at 17, and in his 70s he still spoke only yiddish. He would tell me not to play in the corners where the walls of brownstones met their staircases, because that would be “bughouse” – a word I don’t understand to this day. Once, while he was taking care of me (I was 7), and after I had spent about an hour in his apartment, I told him I had set my apartment on fire before I left for his place – I lit a match, dropped it on a pile of newspapers on the kitchen table, and got scared, so I took off. I was sure my landlord had burned to death. He put on his sweater, took my hand and we began to shuffle, ever so slowly, the three blocks to my house, but suddenly he decided to stop to buy himself a cigar, and he asked if I wanted some shvengum. I told him I wasn’t interested in chewing gum, because my house was on fire and poor Mr. and Mrs. Z downstairs were getting crispy. He argued with me at length, until I picked out some gum AND HE REFUSED TO CONTINUE UNTIL I STARTED CHEWING IT. When we arrived at my building, I expected firetrucks, and crowds and noise, but there was nothing, no smoke, no visible fire. We started back without a word. I was just mystified, and I still am. On our way back, one of those big, badass 1950s giant-fin cars spun out of control on the road, slid sideways and, right before our eyes, crashed into a brownstone, right into the corner where the staircase juts out. It hit with a force so great that the driver’s head snapped back and forth, partially decapitating him. Grandpa looked at me, shrugged his shoulders, and muttered, “Don’t play there – it’s bughouse.”

    I think of your grandma and my grandpa as people who have mastered their worlds. I envy your grandma’s self possession, ability to act fearlessly and fast, and refusal to deal on other people’s terms. I loved my grandpa, a man who refused to assimilate, but always coped gracefully with things he really had no control over. What nice memories we will both have.

  • Very interesting story, Susan. My grandma is quite a lady. Very super cool in fact. I should visit her soon.