My Grandpa recently passed away unexpectedly and I wanted to share two short stories about him as I'm missing him at this moment. The first was as a child, about five years old, and grandma and grandpa had come up to visit from Texas, I was living in Bothell, Wa at the time. My family lived near the high school just about 5 doors down from the high school's track. My grandpa would gather all the cousins and walk us down to the track and line us up each in our own lane and then walk down further...probably around the 50 yard mark and he would yell "go." He would be dressed in his always present tight blue jeans, tucked in polo shirt, and his Texas buckle, with his black as night black hair (years later I would learn that my grandma died his hair for years...I loved this about him). The winner took home a shiny quarter to spend down at the local bananza 8 shop where I would usually spend my quarter buying suckers and my brother would always be the one saving his for something really good like $14.oo dollar walkie talkies that would get the police saying "get off this channel."
Another story which I like to recall, is my favorite part about my grandpa. I lived with him and my grandma and my aunt (whom I'm living with now ironically) during my freshman year in college. I loved being around him. He was quiet, hard working doing anything my grandma or aunt asked of him, always accepting the task. Whenever I made the trek back over the mountains he would always warn me about cops and not to trust them even if they were in a cop car and had a badge. He taught me to only roll the window down an inch to talk with the officer, to this day I still do that. He always protected me against boys, parents, or the future. One day we had bought a desk at a garage sale for me and we were going to spruce it up. This meant taking off about 7 layers of paint with paint thinner (that was the first time I knew what that stuff could do, amazing!). I spent hours scraping the paint off and sanding and learning from my grandpa...of course I got busy and disinterested in the project. About a week later I went to the garage to see what he was doing and there he was sanding my desk. I noticed it was quiet. I remember saying "Grandpa! You need some music in here!" To this he replied "Hayley, have you ever heard the phrase silence is golden?" I hadn't and I said so. He responded "Well it is." So I left and brought him back a grilled cheese sandwich.
I love this story. And I love my grandpa, the always weightlifting boxer that he was. Grandpa, I'm glad you got to do what you love to do, you would have hated getting old! I'm sure you're flying right now checking in on us just like the bird you always wanted to be.
3 comments:
He didn't dye his hair. Ask Ann, she thought he did too but I remember us all sitting around the table and Grandpa (and maybe Grandma too) swearing that he didn't dye it because we were all convinced that he did. Even in Texas Ann still believed he did, but she most have asked Grandma because the next day when we were over at the house she said, "Aup, you're right Grandpa didn't dye his hair."
very sweet but yes his hair was naturally jet black. lucky guy huh. i already have gray hairs.
I still don't believe it. I saw grandma dying it once! When i lived with them! I remember it clearly! Weird.
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