Memories

I have been thinking about my Grandpa this weekend. It has been 11 years since he passed away. I always loved going to my grandparents house: huge driveway perfect for riding bikes, large hill off to the side of the house to roll down, apples off the tree, raspberries off the bushes, rhubarb cakes and pies, cold air conditioning in the summer that felt so good, swinging out back on the glider that my Grandpa built, playing on the swing set and thinking that the husky that lived behind my grandparents house would eat us alive (not a real risk- his name was snowball). I can't think of another house that I have ever been in that had 4 floors, and so many colors of carpet. Blue in the living room, green in the kitchen, brown downstairs, and red in the basement. they also had an old clock that would chime with the hour. Since they lived just down the street from the elementary school sometimes we would go play at the school playground on the weekend or during the summer if we were at their house. Good times.

I love my Grandpa. He would wear a cardigan sweater most of the time and always had the bottom button unbuttoned. I believe all the sweaters had a tiny alligator on them. No need to match the sweater to the pants- wearing a blue sweater and red pants was cool. Don't forget the loafer shoes. I don't even think my Grandpa owned tennis shoes or flip flops. He always had nice cars; I thought a Ford Taurus with a red interior was the nicest car ever, add the personalized license plate and that was the best. He had a motorcycle and would take me around the neighborhood. Most of the time I hid my head or closed my eyes because I was scared, especially after he kept warning me not to touch the metal pipe.

I loved going up to his bathroom and looking at the various colognes that sat on the sink and toilet top. One was a green bottle that smelled nice, and I remember one shaped like an alligator or crocodile. He always smelled nice.

My Grandpa was very particular about manners. No elbows on the table, no chewing with the mouth open, and always wear shoes on your feet when company is over. I remember being called out a few times for chewing with my mouth open once I was old enough to sit at the "adult" table. I then took to watching my Grandpa eat so I could let him know that he was chewing with his mouth open. I will never forgot the look he gave me when I told him to chew with his mouth closed. Then he told me that he had to open his mouth occasionally to breathe. If he spilled food on his shirt/tie, no problem, he said that he was saving those pieces for later when he was hungry.

I once thought I could run fast so I challenged my Grandpa to a foot race around my backyard. He killed me, big time, while wearing loafers and polyester pants. But, I was close enough behind him to hear the familiar keys jingling in his pocket.

He also wouldn't drink from a yard hose, said that it was toilet water. Stopped me from drinking from a hose for a long time.

If you asked him a question he would give you a look, sit back and fold his hands across his stomach, maybe even cross his feet, lick his lips (I spent a lot of time watching his mouth, remember), and start off 'well, ...".

After we moved to Arizona I called him once to tell him my grades on the report card. All A's and 1 B. He said, "Is that the best you can do?". I answered, "No". Then a pause and he said, "then do better". I had kept that in mind for 20 years.

I remember him to be a serious man, but I also remember riding on top of his shoulders when I was to tired to walk further, playing frogger and lemonade on his computer in the 1980's, croquet, Frisbee, and sparklers on the 4th of July, and he is the only person who has ticklish feet with his shoes on. Though gone, 'Wisemen Still Adore Him'.