The Tit Painting

I've seen the power of strong women from an early age. Both of my grandmothers wielded fists of fury and had the ability to influence their men into submission. Legends about my mom's mom, Lily, include the time she once threw an onion at my grandfather so hard,it lodged into the wall. When angry she was relentless, but completely adored by many. At age 6, when most kids are killer at Candyland, Me-ma Lily taught me how to play Black Jack, cigarette in hand (her, not me), with a mason jar full of quarters. I'd use the change to buy candy when I won her. Years later I would use this skill winning money at Vegas tradeshows surrounded by colleagues and concubines. I always think of her though because she had character, and was one. A gorgeous woman, who even in the last years of her too-young life remained strong. I loved her as only her first, adoring grandson could could: even when lymphoma affected her looks and her demeanor, I'd always be there making sure she kept the wig off. I thought she looked most beautiful, just as herself.

My dad's mom, Dorothy…well, to say she was outspoken would be like saying The Shawshank Redemption was just a decent movie, or Shakespeare got a few poems down. She was as loving as she could be vicious, too-often saying things that offended people profusely, while making her loved ones the center of her universe. A unique talent. She had the ability to shock a room into silence but could also light it up with laughter. There was no wonder why my grandfather was a man of few words: Grandma Dorothy commanded the floor.

I'm not sure if this is even pertinent to the blog, but there is a story about her that needs to be told.

Late in her life, Grandma Dorothy was diagnosed with breast cancer. I believe she was in her early 80's at the time, and while she knew she wasn't well she decided the only medicine could be laughter. Yup, good humor...and medicinal marijuana.

When Grandma got stoned she liked to paint. She painted mainly cows, and to this day I am not quite sure why that was her forte. These cows would come in all shapes, sizes, and styles. There was the rustic cow, the scenic cow, the post-modern cow, and even the impressionist cow. However as time passed she widened her repertoire to include other, intriguing subjects.

She was shopping apartments with my cousin, who had just moved down to Florida to start his business. For each one of his walls she envisioned a different painting, but was especially concerned with the bedroom. Grandma Dorothy was of the opinion that for a bachelor to have a nude above his bed showed a certain level of sophistication. So she began painting a portrait of a young lady draped in nothing but a transparent shawl. The painting was done from the chest-up, so attention was immediately drawn to the large breast: everything else was slightly lop-sided. The background she turned into a blend of greens, giving a military camouflage effect and adding to the surreal effect.

When my cousin's girlfriend moved in before their marriage, this painting had to go. And naturally, it had to progress through the chain of Ross bachelors. One day I received an e-mail that described the mission: included were instructions to "keep the legend of the tit painting alive." I won the booby prize.

It is now and will forever be known as the Tit Painting, and it sits above my bed. Since the day it arrived, there has not been one woman that has seen it who hasn't asked for an explanation. It may haunt me in for the rest of its existence, but I wouldn't have it any other way.