Grampa's Golden Pond
with
Grampa Jenkins
It's great to be back on Broadway again, I'll
tell you that. It seems like years since I was out hoofing on the golden
way. Oh my gosh, it has been ages, seven long years since my final
performance as Mortimer in the 'Fantasticks'. Wow, those were the days, but
the good news is they're back! Yep, that's me in the spot light in the
monster hit musical 'Spamalot'. I landed the part of Old Man #7 without as
much as an audition. The great director Mike Nichols told me "Grampa,
getting to work with you to the stage of the Shubert Theatre would be like a
dream come true."
It's true that I've only got one speaking
line, but that one's a real corker. David Hyde Pierce comes riding into the
village on his imaginary horse, and I say 'Ow's it going, then, brave Sir
Robin'. It's not the line that's important, it's the delivery. I stretch out
the 'Ow' for as long as I can, and make my eyes seem like they're going to
pop out of my head. A couple of times I've had Pierce almost break up on the
stage. The other night, I did a little soft shoe after the question, which
made it even funnier in my opinion. Well, Pierce didn't like me stealing the
spotlight from him, so he hit me with his sword. Let me tell you a little
story about David Hyde Pierce. He's a real prick.
I've been so busy lately, that I haven't even
had a chance to look in on my granddaughter Katy. When I hear those sad
little drunken messages of hers on the answering machine, it almost breaks
my heart. She keeps rambling on about her Gramma, but I know what she really
wants is for me to help her out with her column. While it's true that I've
got my fair share of wisdom, that's not the sort of thing that comes for
free, even for kin. What Katy really needs is some tough Grampa love, which
is why I always return her calls in the afternoon when I figure she'll be
sleeping. And if she is awake, she's so far into the bag that I can use my
acting skills to pretend to be an English vacuum cleaner salesman. 'Good
afternoon, Mum, would you be interested in viewing a demonstration of the
powerful new Oreck XL Deluxe? It's a bloody great vacuum'. Heh, heh, that
tricks her into hanging up every time.
This morning, though, the girl caught me by
surprise, just as I was fixing up a piping hot bowl of Quaker Oats. I had
been expecting a call from Ed Finnegan, the assistant cast director for 'Spamalot'.
We're talking about expanding my role. He's talking an extra 10% if I'll let
myself be impaled in the third act. I'm holding out for 20% and another line
of dialogue. He told me 15%, and said Nichols might let me say 'ouch'. So
you can understand my surprise when I heard Katy on the other end of the
line.
"What do you mean, ouch?" she asked me.
"I'm practicing. Oooouuuuccchhhhhhh!"
"Can it, grampa, you ridiculous old coot,"
she replied affectionately, in a voice that sounded suspiciously sober. "We
really need to talk." So I put her on speakerphone and let her jabber away
while I microwaved up some crisp Sir Francis hickory smoked bacon.
Delicious. Those are some mighty fine thick and sturdy pork strips, just the
smell of which sets my mouth to watering.
Katy was talking about the Jesus Saves
vegetable store or something like that, and since it didn't have anything to
do with me, I took my time to slice a banana into tiny little pieces for my
Quaker Oats. Do you know that if you cut a banana into small enough slices
that it will literally dissolve in your oatmeal? That's a trick that the
great Don Ameche showed me back in 1966 on the set of 'Picture Mommy Dead',
where I had a small role as a corpse. Don was one dapper gentleman, and he
sure knew his way around a bowl of steaming oats.
"Grampa! Answer me you grizzled old son of a
bitch, or I'm driving over there to pull out your liver with my teeth." Heh,
heh, that girl got her sense of humor from yours truly, I do declare. That's
the same thing I used to tell her when she was a little girl and we would play
Dr. Kildare. "Sorry, sweetheart," I chuckled, taking a big chomp off a tasty
strip of my Sir Francis bacon. "Just warming up my coffee. Go right ahead."
"Yeah, your attention span is like Pope
Smoke. Look. Thursday, okay? About twelve-thirty. I'll pick you up. We'll
get some lunch first. There's a Denny's just a couple blocks away. Remember
it, you old relic. And this time have your pants on when I get there."
It's a funny thing about getting old. I don't
remember it. Not a thing. Five years I've been in this apartment without realizing there
was a Denny's right up the street.
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