Shades of Gray

Anything to declare? the young, uniformed customs agent asked with an appraising smile as he leaned in the driver's side window and tipped his cap.

I declare I like your eyes, my mother replied with a flirtatious laugh and a fluttering of eyelashes, But no, nothing. My grandmother, sitting ramrod straight in the passenger seat, slammed her book shut with a scowl, her jaw clenched in suppressed anger. The young agent blushed slightly, then stepped back and waved us through. The multiple bottles of whiskey and the twenty or so cartons of American cigarettes wrapped and stowed under the seats went undetected. Easy as falling off a log, my mother said casually as we drove onto Canadian soil and Nana crossed her arms and stared fiercely out her window all the way to St. Andrews. I wasn't exactly sure what had made her so furious but I was old enough to rein in my curiosity and knew better than to ask.

There weren't many shades of gray for or between these two women. Both could be hot tempered and tyrannical if they didn't get their way. Both were intolerantly and adamantly republican/conservative/right wing and neither had any use for people of color, welfare programs, rock and roll, sex education in schools or modern furniture. Both were hard core, hard shelled, fire and brimstone Baptists who viewed religious freedom more as a character flaw than a right. Both were devout gossips, although they would have fought violently against the charge - both saw the budding issue of same sex relationships as abnormal and preferably punishable by death - both were anti anything that didn't fit neatly into their world view - desegregation, civil rights, modern art, career women, movie magazines, single mothers, motorcycles.

Yet with all this in common, these were two women were constantly at odds with each other. They fought about it all, the significant and the trivial, the meaningful and the foolish. There were no small disagreements, each and every conflict turned bitter and mean spirited and we learned early on that the fall out from this incessant war had far reaching effects. Caught in the crossfire was a phrase that had literal meaning for us.

I am more like both of them than I choose to admit but my battle is with myself alone.