Question

"I finally found the room and saw my grandmother in bed. My grandmother looks like Ethel
Barrymore. I never knew who Ethel Barrymore was until I saw a terrific movie, None But The
Lonely Heart, on TV, starring Ethel Barrymore and Cary Grant. Both my grandmother and Ethel
Barrymore have these great craggy faces like the side of a mountain and wonderful voices like
syrup being poured. Slowly. She was propped up in bed, pillows puffed behind her. Her hair had
been combed out and fell upon her shoulders. For some reason, this flowing hair gave her an
almost girlish appearance, despite its whiteness.
She saw me and smiled. Her eyes lit up and her eyebrows arched and she reached out her hands
to me in greeting. "Mike, Mike," she said. And I breathed a sigh of relief. This was one of her
good days. My mother warned me that she might not know who I was at first.
I took her hands in mine. They were fragile. I could actually feel her bones, and it seemed as if
they would break if I pressed too hard. Her skin was smooth, almost slippery, as if the years had
worn away all the roughness, the way the wind wears away the surfaces of stones.
"Mike, Mike, I didn't think you'd come," she said, so happy, and she was still Ethel Barrymore,
that voices like a caress. "I've been waiting all this time." Before I could reply, she looked away,
out the window. "See the birds? I've been watching them at the feeder. I love to see them come.
Even the blue jays. The blue jays are like hawks -- they take the food that the small birds should
have. But the small birds, the chickadees, watch the blue jays and at least learn where the feeder
is."
She lapsed into silence, and I looked out the window. There was no feeder. No birds.
There was only the parking lot and the sun glinting on car windshields.
She turned to me again, eyes bright. Radiant, really. Or was it a medicine brightness?
"Ah, Mike. You look so grand, so grand. Is that a new coat?"
"Not really," I said. I'd been wearing my uncle Jerry's old army-fatigue jacket for months,
practically living in it, my mother said. But she insisted that I wear my raincoat for the visit. It
was about a year old but looked new because I didn't wear it much. Nobody was wearing
raincoats lately.
"You always loved clothes, didn't you, Mike?" she said.
I was beginning to feel uneasy, because she regarded me with such intensity. Those bright eyes. I
wondered -- are old people in place like this so lonesome, so abandoned that they go wild when
someone visits? Or was she so happy because she was suddenly lucid and everything was sharp
and clear? My mother had described those moments when my grandmother suddenly emerged
from the fog that so often obscured her mind. I didn't know the answers, but it felt kind of
spooky, getting such an emotional welcome from her.


Practice (page 4): Use what you learned in the lesson and the main points that you identified above to provide an objective summary of this part of the story. Write a paragraph (about 4-5 sentences).
Summary

Answer 1

The narrator finds his grandmother propped up in bed and notes her striking, craggy features and flowing white hair that give her a surprisingly youthful look. She brightens when she sees him, calls him "Mike," reaches for his hands, and he notices how fragile and smooth they feel. She talks about watching birds at a feeder, though when he looks there is only a parking lot and cars. She praises his coat, and the narrator feels uneasy, unsure whether her warmth is due to sudden clarity or loneliness.