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So this is for school. Any and all comments are very helpful.

Green Jello



There were worse things in the world than visiting his grandfather, Jonathan knew. It was not as bad as being stuck in a traffic jam for hours, or being audited by the IRS, nor was it was crucifying as dental surgery or waiting in an airport when your flight's been delayed. It's not as bad as being eaten by Piranhas or contracting a rare tropical illness, being held hostage in a hostile land by dangerous extremists or falling down a flight of very steep stairs. In many ways visiting his grandfather wasn't even as bad as spending nine hours a day sitting at a cubical for barely enough money to live on, or lying to his coworkers to avoid having to spend time with them after work. In the grand scheme of things, Jonathan knew that visiting his grandfather at the Live Oak Senior Retirement Community on the first and third Sunday of the month was not all that bad.

Despite knowing this full and well, Jonathan dreaded going. It wasn't that Live Oak Senior Retirement Community was an inherently unpleasant place. On the contrary, it was a pleasant brick building with a nice lawn, filled with cheerful and welcoming tenants, who spent their days watching day time television and playing cards. They ate home style meals in a comfortable dining hall and went to water aerobics and Senior Yoga courses and on alternating Wednesdays would take trips to the local golf course or movie theater or zoo to get out and about. It defied all of the stereotypes of old folks homes, where the elderly sat on rotting old sofas and waited to die.

It wasn't that his grandfather was unpleasant either. His grandfather was amicable and well humored, often laughing at his own jokes, and always willing to make jokes at his own expense. No matter the state of his health, or if Jonathan had forgotten a visit for a week or two, he remained a pleasant and humorous man. He has his downfalls, of course. He thought himself too funny and liked rambling on, but nothing more damning that his tendency to speak in cliches.

Still, when the day would come, Jonathan Graves, age 26, would inevitably find himself laying in bed as the alarm clock screamed at him, trying to think up some previously forgotten but unavoidable prior engagement that would excuse him from his bimonthly trip. After all, he always told himself, why couldn't Mary go visit grandpa? But, as his sister often reminded him, she had to take Danielle to her ballet lessons on Sunday morning, and then Alex to his karate lessons at lunch and it wasn't her fault that Mom and her new boyfriend moved to Dallas and never visited or that Dad decided to take that job in California, and didn't Jonathan owe her for cosigning on his nice one bedroom apartment so he could move out of that duplex he was sharing with those annoying college students and what was he going to do on Sunday morning anyway other than sleep in and watch porn, it wasn't like he ever went to Church.

And Jonathan, unable to counter any of her points, would once again be cowed into leaving his comfortable apartment, and give up on his morning of sleeping in and watching porn and resign himself to driving his beat up old Ford to the Retirement Community and make sure than Grandpa wasn't too lonely.


It was almost Thanksgiving and the place was decorated with cheap store bought gourds and decorative corn in polite wicker baskets. The nurse at the desk, Sally her plastic name tag declared, filled out the visitors sign in for him. “Dan will be happy to see you.” She told him, like she did every visit. “He seems very fond of you.”

Jonathan gave a half hearted smile. Small talk with the staff was not high on his list of 'how I want to spend this visit'. “Thanks. Is he in his room?”

“I'm not sure.” She said. “Maggie checked on him this morning. I think she said he was going to play chess with one of the other fellows again. Just look around for him I suppose.”

Jonathan nodded. He really wasn't looking forward to this, but then there were few things he did look forward to lately.



He found his grandfather in one of the common rooms, playing, and loosing at, chess with a crumpled old man in comical suspenders. He looked up as Jonathan approached and gave a happy grin. “Ah, Johnny, I was beginning to worry you weren't coming. Sleep in, did you?” He asked laughing. His grandfather, clean shaven with wispy white hair half hidden under his faded green fedora hat, wore a faded Hawaiian shirt, slate slacks, and argyle socks with sandals, giving the impression that yes, he was allowed to pick out his own clothes and yes, he did want to wear that shirt with those pants and no, the nurse couldn't tell him otherwise.

“Hello Grandpa,” Jonathan said, his hands awkwardly shoved in his pockets.

“Checkmate,” the old man sitting opposite his grandfather wheezed.

“Ah, you got me again,” his grandfather laughed, shaking his finger. “Arthur always beats me at chess.” He stood up, his back cracking like bubble wrap. “We'll have a rematch tomorrow, Arthur.” He said, giving a small tip of his hat.

“We always do,” Arthur said and began to reset the pieces.

“Come on Johnny, we'll swing by the soda pop fountain and chit chat in my room for a while. There's still time before lunch.” His grandfather took him by the elbow as he led him away.

Jonathan gave his grandfather's friend a weak smile and followed his grandfather down the cheaply carpeted halls, past the generic potted plants. They made a pit stop at a soda machine that looked right out of the 80's, clunky and worn down, where his grandfather bought a root beer for himself and a diet coke for Jonathan. Then with no further distractions they made it to his small, yet comfortable room.

This room was what really bothered Jonathan about coming here. It was clearly a room that had been furnished when his grandfather moved into it. The wallpaper was peeling at the corners and the rug was worn. A bland, hotel generic painting of some mountains hung on the wall next to the small window. A small potted fern sat neglected in the corner, wilting because his grandfather never bothered to water it. It was a room where many elderly folks had waited out the last long years of their lives and upon their death was sterilized thoroughly before the next tenant was given the space.

His grandfather had been in this room for almost three years now and had slowly adopted it as his own. Dog eared chess strategy books and old Marx Brothers movies on VHS, a half eaten box of Nilla wafers and a poorly hidden bottle of rum in the book shelf, and a few rather embarrassing childhood photos of Jonathan himself and his sister in Halloween costumes and at birthday parties decorated the room. Jonathan felt smothered by it. At least out in the common rooms he felt like he could breath, but here in his grandfathers adopted private space he couldn't help but feel how horribly sad it must be to be an adult stuck in the ragged equivalent of a dorm room.

It felt as though his parents had abandoned his grandfather to this place, unwilling to take him into their homes when he couldn't take care of himself anymore. But he wasn't willing to have his grandfather move in with him either. He was just as guilty.

His grandfather sat on his bed, creaking and sagging under the weight. “Well, Johnny, pull up a chair. How's work? Still doing...what was it?”

“ Tech support. It's the same as always,” Jonathan sighed, and sat at the cheap card table by the window. “I still haven't gotten that promotion. But I think that if I stay late a few nights this week I can probably get a pay raise by Christmas. I'm taking some classes at the community college too. Computer science.”

“Working hard, I see. All work and no play, my boy,” He chuckled. “You need to stop and smell the roses.”

“You're talking in cliches again, Grandpa,” Johnathan sighed.

“No, no, boy I mean it,” His grandfather said, taking a drink from his root beer. “You're 25 years old now, no girlfriend, no hobbies, working a cubical doing...what was it again?”

“Tech support.”

“Why? When I was your age I was working on a fishing boat out in the Atlantic, catching cod!” His grandfather said proudly. “It was hard work, true, but I was having a world of fun! And I had your Grandma waiting at home for me when I was tired of the fishes. Pretty thing, my Molly. Always wore this yellow sundress on the days I'd come back to shore.”

“Grandpa, when you were my age it was 1955. And I don't want to be a cod fisher.”

“I'm not saying you have to be a cod fisher,” His grandfather laughed. There was a moment of silence.“Would you like a Nilla wafer?” He asked and grabbed the box of cookies off his night stand.

“What? No, thanks grandpa.” Jonathan could feel himself beginning to get annoyed. He had given up his one morning off this week, his only time of the week to just relax and do nothing, to listen to his grandfather laugh at his own jokes and offer him half stale snacks.

“So tell me about your friends,” His grandfather said and bit into one of the cookies himself.

“I don't really-”

There was a knock on the door. Arthur, his grandfather's friend with the ridiculous suspenders poked his head in. “Dan? Have you seen my backpack?” He mumbled. He scanned the room once. “Not in here I guess.” He shook his head and walked back out without another word.

“ What did Arthur want?” His grandfather asked, having not heard him. He reached into his pocket and began to fiddle with his hearing aide, turning up the volume.

“He was looking for his backpack, I think.” Jonathan mentally sighed. Old people, slowly loosing their sanity, and their hearing. It was pretty depressing.

“Ah, aren't we all?” His grandfather laughed and took another swig from his root beer.

“Um....no. I'm not...looking for a backpack.”

“Johnny that was a metaphor,” his grandfather shook his head. “You remind me of your father sometimes.” And here it came, the obligatory complaints about his father. It wasn't that his grandfather didn't like his father. No father really dislikes their son, after all, but there was tension there. Years of it. “Now don't get me wrong, Johnny. I love him and I love you, but that son of mine just can't take a joke. Always working. Always stressing. I don't know how he got a gal as pretty and funny as your mama to marry him for the time that he did. Your mama, she's a pretty thing. Reminds me of Molly when she was young.” He shook his head. “But your daddy. Didn't even go to your graduation for the sake of some overtime pay. And now he's moved to the other side of the country and is never around for you kids.”

“Grandpa, it's not-” Jonathan knew that his Grandfather resented the fact that his father had chosen work over family in many ways. He felt like he should defend his father though. True, he hadn't always been around for the cliché school event here and the stereotypical family gathering there, but Jonathan understood. Work was important. Doing well was important.

“Johnny, I just don't want you to waste your life not smiling.” His grandfather reached out and took his hand.

“I'm not...” Jonathan let out a sharp breath. How could he explain this to his grandfather? “I'm not wasting my life. I'm doing something with it. I'm...working. I'm going to be a success someday.”

“It's not about winning or loosing,” his grandfather said. “Never has been. Hell, every day I play chess with Arthur McAllen, and every day I loose. He's ten years older than I am, and he was the Nebraska University chess champion in his day. I'll never beat him. But I keep playing, don't I? You know why?”

“....Because loosing is fun?” Jonathan asked, leaning back a little. His grandfather was still holding his hand. It was embarrassing, sitting here while his grandfather tried to give him important life lessons like some kind of corny feel good movie with swelling back ground music.

“Because playing is fun, boy,” His grandfather laughed and let go of his hand, standing up slowly. “Come on now, let's go rustle up some food from the cafeteria. It's about time they started serving. I'll get you some of that green Jello that you always like. I want to see if Arthur found his backpack.”

Jonathan didn't move at first. He watched as his grandfather began to amble towards the door, humming a poorly out of tune rendition of some Frank Sinatra song under his breath. This man had been a cod fisher, had grown up during World War 2, had married and had children and grown old, and now spent his days loosing chess games to a half senile friend. He was happy with that. Happy to be stuck in a retirement home, happy watching day time television and eating green jello and playing board games. He tried to figure out why.

“Not winning or loosing.” Jonathan said softly under his
breath. “Just playing for fun....”

“Johnny?” His grandfather, noticing that he still hadn't stood up, looked back at him. “Everything alright?”

Jonathan gave a small nod and stood up. “Grandpa?”

“Yes?”

“I...think I might quit my job.”

“Good boy. Find something funner.” His grandfather said and opened the door. “Let's go get that Jello.”

Jello sounded great actually. In fact, Jonathan looked forward to it.

I agree with this, except the part in which it says we should never write "26."
There are a few exceptions to the rule(what do you expect, it's English), but it's right for the most part.
This might help a little bit:
http://grammar.ccc.commnet.edu/grammar/numbers.htm

By the way, your first sentence is in "Yoda talk" format haha. The first comma in the second sentence is extraneous.
In addition, you should never use first or second person in formal writing, unless you are part of the story/essay in some way.
Watch the contractions. In formal writing, there should be no contractions; however, if you're writing informally, make sure that you either use all contractions or none at all.
"In many ways visiting his grandfather wasn't even as bad as spending nine hours a day sitting at a cubical for barely enough money to live on, or lying to his coworkers to avoid having to spend time with them after work."
In many ways, visiting his grandfather was not [don't need even] as bad as spending nine hours a day sitting at a cubical [in order to scrape out a living]. Run on.
You talk about why visiting his grandfather isn't a bad thing with a lot of analogies, but you never really state why it wasn't as bad.

The word "daytime" is one word.
Here's another run-on:
"They ate home style meals in a comfortable dining hall and went to water aerobics and Senior Yoga courses and on alternating Wednesdays would take trips to the local golf course or movie theater or zoo to get out and about. It defied all of the stereotypes of [conventional] old folks homes, where the elderly sat on rotting old sofas and waited to die."
They ate home-style meals in a comfortable dining hall, and went to water aerobics and Senior Yoga classes. You can't use "and" again here because you've already used it to create a compound sentence.
On alternating Wednesdays, they would take trips to the local golf course, movie theater, or zoo to get out and about.
The word "where" would sound better as "in which."

"His grandfather was amicable and well humored, often laughing at his own jokes, and always willing to make jokes at his own expense. No matter the state of his health, or if Jonathan had forgotten a visit for a week or two, he remained a pleasant and humorous man."
Well-humored is a hyphenated word. I'm not quite sure about the rules for hyphenation, it's second nature for me, but if anyone could elaborate, I'd be thankful.
One of the things that the person above said was that you had tense inconsistencies. Here's the first one that I caught:
"was amicable and well-humored, often laughing"
You went from past tense to present here.
How does Jonathan not visiting him relate to the state of his health?
I get what you're trying to say with that sentence, but the structure makes it a bit confusing.

Well, I'm going to stop with the edits because this post is kinda old, and I'd hate to edit that story just to find out that you're inactive.
Overall, I found the story to be really interesting. Some of the syntax errors impeded my reading, but only by a little bit. You're a pretty good writer :3