Marjorie Virginia (Gilbert) Choate 1928-1999

Since Arthur put a tribute to Robert Choate (Grandpa) on his blog, and he never got a chance to meet Marjorie (Grandma.) I thought I would share this paper that Shonda wrote for her college English class.

Bob and Marjorie made a great pair- they complemented each other, and although there were times, they spit and sputtered at each other they were a little like the old couple in On Golden Pond. They were married for 52 great years. We all miss them.

The Dancing Gorilla
by Shonda Betz
October 2006

It’s sad to think that I don’t remember much about my grandmother. Even though she died when I was old enough to comprehend, it was during the time that she was alive that I took for granted. As a matter of fact, the only thing I completely remember is her laughter.

My grandmother’s laugh was magical. It could light up the whole room and make everyone in it want to laugh with her. Even after she had gotten sick with Progressive Supranuclear Palsy, she kept laughing until the day she passed. It amazes me to look back and realize that with all the pain she encountered she still had enough spirit left to laugh. I know that is the type of person I would like to be.

I was first observant of my grandmother’s strength and spirit when I was about four years old. She taught defense to young children at a local school where she lived in Ohio. Being her youngest granddaughter, I was a very special exception when I went down to visit.

“No!” she would shout, crossing her arms, imitating a young child in danger of being abducted. “Now you try it” Being four and stubborn, I was no stranger to yelling “no”

"NOOO!” I screamed my forehead scrunched up in anger, nearly growling out of my curled lips. She looked at me a while before she started laughing.

"Very good” she complimented, still chuckling at the attitude and spirit of her grandchild.

It was a few years later when I had gone down to visit my grandparents after Thanksgiving to help my grandpa make his yearly batch of peanut brittle. My job was always the same: grease the pans. It was boring, dull and most of the time I left clumps of butter stuck to the metal side. This particular season, I decided that I was going to do the job perfectly. Grabbing my napkin, I scrubbed my heart and soul into that pan. I was determined there were going to be no butter clumps this year.

Showing off the three pans to my grandmother proudly, I sat back and waited for her reaction. Surprisingly, after looking curiously at the small tubs on her table she began to chuckle.

"Bob," she giggled loudly into my grandfather’s ear. “Look what she did to the pan!” I was shocked. I thought I had done excellent work.

"What did I do?” I demanded to know. My grandmother grabbed the pans off the table and held them down for me to see.

“You scrubbed all the butter off” she burst out laughing at my much too eager attempts. At first disappointed, I began pouting solemnly in the kitchen chair, my knees pressed up against my chest and my arms wrapped around my legs. But my grandma kept laughing and I eventually gave in, laughing at myself.

It was about this time when my grandmother found out she was sick. Nothing changed about her mood. When the hallucinations started occurring she could still laugh about it. It was because of her happy disposition that I never realized how sick she really was. The last day I saw her was the day she passed away.

When my mother and I walked into her house everything was the same. My grandma was setting peacefully on the couch working whole heartedly on one of her crossword puzzles. My grandfather was watching one of his baseball games on the television, the volume blaring just so he could hear. We sat for four hours laughing, talking and catching my grandparents up on what was going on in my life. We left and ten hours later we got a phone call that she had passed away.

At her funeral, her sense of humor shined through. Flowers, plants, and other gifts that our family received were piled around the front of the funeral home. Sitting almost unnoticed, with the exception of a few people, was a small stuffed gorilla clinging to the trunk of a small tree that my grandmother’s sister had sent. Occasionally it would start singing the Macarena.

"What is this?” my great aunt fumed, disgusted by the fact that the florist would put a singing and dancing gorilla on her plant without her permission. “I’m going to call them RIGHT now!” My cousin quickly stopped her, before she stormed off.

"Aunt Lois!” my cousin laughed, “we put it on there! It was one of Grandma’s favorites!”

Aunt Lois turning her head curiously to the side looked one more time at the gorilla as it suddenly started to sing one more time.

We all began to laugh uncontrollably. How could we not? We continued to laugh for the rest of the night. I am sad to have lost that wonderful woman from my life but, in my heart I knew that we could celebrate her life.

My grandma taught me about the kind of person that I want to be. I want to be able to laugh at all my flaws and through all my pain. I want to have people at my funeral talking about what a giver and how I was kind and wonderful person I believe that that is the most important lesson that I have learned so far in my life. It’s because of her life lesson that I now feel that I am ready to take on anything that life throws my way and in a few years start a family of my own.