Grandpa Bowman was proof that an "ordinary" life is NOT boring, and definitely NOT meaningless. In his quiet way, he taught me what's most important in life, and what is the most meaningful. There are not too many people who have had the opportunity of living less than 30 miles from their grandparents. I was lucky enough to live so close to them after my parents separated, that they became part of every day life. Grandpa always knew where we were headed and the exact time we always got home. I LOVED that about him. My grandparents have a farm. And by farm I mean land. Lots and lots of land. But rarely were there any actual farm animals. Except the few dozen cats that have roamed about over the years. And Tasha. The worlds greatest, canal-jumpin'/stick-catchin' dog! Grandpa did get us pigs once. I named mine 'Blackey.' He was black. (I know the genius levels my brain works on.) I told 'Blackey' all my secrets from how I dreamed of becoming a nurse, and traveling the world, to telling him ALL about the secret crush I had on a boy named Wayne. We chased those piggies all around their stall and a few times out of their stall. We fed them til they were nice and plump. Grandpa eventually sold them to a nice family, and I felt confident they would be well taken care of. It seriously never occurred to me that our pigs would eventually become this family's bacon. Grandpa never got pigs again. I enjoyed every second on that farm. All the lazy summers my entire family spent there. We spent hours in the canal. A favorite spot for all the cousins. As we'd be floating down the water in our inner-tubes, we would belt out the soundtrack from 'Annie.' I remember the freshly cut hay and the adventures we all took cruising through the fields on grandpa's four-wheeler (one of his many, many farm toys) . We would go out from sun up to sun down some days. With an occasional incident that somehow landed the four-wheeler caught in the barbed wire fence along the way. Always. Somehow? Grandpa would come to our rescue every time. Get us back on the trail, check the gas tank, and tires, give us a stern talking to and then send us on our way.
Grandma and Grandpas' home is always filled with the smells of syrup, honey, and home-baked bread. Their walls and tables are adorned with picture frames; and there are so many cabinets filled with our family's favorite board games and dozens of photo albums that we all still enjoy looking through. Ever since that house was built. Every time we turn down that road with that run-down closed up gas station I feel like I'm coming home. Dear old Chester, Idaho a little corner of the world. It is a place that really hasn't changed in my 27 years of knowing it. I think that's one reason why I LOVE it so much. It is a place that holds so many unforgettable moments, with an extraordinary amount of LOVE, and with just a pinch of country. There is no place like it and it is One of my favorite places to be. When we moved to Idaho, probably my most favorite memories happened on our shopping trips to Idaho Falls. Nearly every Friday, was shopping day! (Oh! And every Saturday was "project" day) We would hit the dollar store, Fred Meyer, Sams Club, and the mall. Between my grandmother, my mother and myself; the Three Shopaholics, there was not a sale we missed out on. We could spend hours and hours of just browsing through store aisles. Dearest Grandpa, he was so patient as we meandered from store to store. I will say this it takes a very patient man that will go shopping with any woman. Sometimes we may have gotten a little carried away and simply "lost" track of time; And if we ever couldn't find him we were always sure to spot him in the parking lot, sitting in the car. Waiting. Maybe not so patiently. Our shopping trips would always include a lunch date, too. The lunches were never fancy, but to this day, our dates to the J.J Norths and Chuck-a-rama go down in history as some of my most favorite dining-out memories. Well, memories in general. I became a mother when I was just 22 years old. He was there for their baby blessings. Every time we visited my grandparents; I got to watch my rough and tough grandpa cradled those little babies of mine. Something about the way he walked them around or talked to them in his deep, husky-cowboy voice would calm them right down and put them to sleep; and as long as they stayed asleep and calm he was at ease and enjoyed every minute. He gave them their very own unique nicknames right from the start: 'Maximus' and 'Dirty Harry'. In what seemed like seconds those baby boys got older and bigger and LOVED their Grandpa Bowman dearly. They would talk for hours and hours (if he let them) about airplanes, and fire trucks. and he would tell stories about airplanes, and fire trucks for hours and hours (if they let him), because after all, we know all grandfathers are antique little boys at heart. When it came to Grandpa Bowman wisdom it went a little something like this: "A perfect grandpa LOVES them, spoils them... then sends them home!" He was such a Grandpa and Great-Grandpa. I think any of us should be so lucky as to find a LOVE like my grandparents had. They found each other young and spent the rest of their lives making each other happy. They raised a wonderful family. Grandpa connected with each of his children and grandchildren in different ways; remaining genuinely interested in each of our lives. Grandpa Bowman was one of those people that I knew LOVED me just because. Not for anything I did or earned, but just because I was his granddaughter. I never had to accomplish any great feat to earn his LOVE - no matter what, I knew that he LOVED me and was proud of me, as he was with of all of his grandchildren and his family. Grandpa Bowman was one of the greatest men I'll ever know.
I have so many warm memories....spending time with him, watching him and witnessing how much he loved family and loved life. Growing up, whenever life got me down, or felt like it was at its darkest, my grandparents' LOVE was something that I carried with me Always. Grandpas' sweet, meaningful, Extra-ordinary life is one that I hope to emulate and I hope that I can leave as loving of a legacy as he has left behind.
No comments:
Post a Comment