Memories of Grandpa When I think about memories of Grandpa, two things immediately come to mind: card games and yard-work. To be fair though, those are definitely not the ONLY two things that come to mind when I think about Grandpa, but for some reason, those two things are the most poignant. Grandpa taught me pretty much everything that I know about mowing lawns, chopping wood, sweeping chimney's, shoveling snow, sanding, finishing, painting, I mean, the list could honestly go on for days. One particular yard-work experience has always stood out to me. I was 15 or 16, and I had just gotten home from work on a Thursday evening. As soon as I walked into the house, my mom called at me from her bedroom, and said, "Grandpa called, he's got a quart of wood ready to load and haul to the back yard for splitting. Be ready on Saturday @ 7 am." In that second my life was over. I was a teenager. A teenager that had just gotten his drivers license and the idea of spending 6 hours of my Saturday lifting and carrying wood was no where on my radar. So I thought to myself, "Fine. It's not as if I can come up with an =excuse on this kind of short notice, but if I'm going to waste half of my Saturday, I'm going to at least sleep in, and that is that." Oh how naïve I was. So Saturday morning came, and I set my alarm for 7 AM just to be on the safe side. My alarm goes off, and I immediately shut it off. Then I wait. 7:05 am, still good, no sign of grandpa. 7:10 am, it was still quiet. 7:15 am, I was in the clear. Back to sleep I went. Now, I couldn't tell you how much time had actually passed or what time it was when I actually woke up, but what I can tell you is HOW I woke up. The first thing I remember is my door bursting open and sunlight pouring in, almost instantaneously blinding me. Then the pounding started in. Grandpa had taken the pillow out from under my head and started whipping me with it! This went on for a good 60 seconds until I finally gave in and got out of bed. It was by far the worst pillow fight that I had ever been involved in. Now to Grandpa's credit, it was just a pillow and no physical damage was done. But I was never the same again. I was changed, and the most important lesson to take away from this story is to never leave Grandpa waiting! I am of course being dramatic, and thinking back on this memory now, I can't help but laugh at myself. Bottom line, the reason I associate yard-work with Grandpa is because after you get passed the initial shock of waking up, working with him was always a good time. I always learned something new, big or small. And even though I didn't realize it then, No Saturday was ever wasted. Now, years have passed since that story happened, but one other thing holds true with Grandpa; his love for games. Everyone who knew Grandpa even in the smallest sense knew that he loved to play a good card game. Phase 10, skip-Bo, Aggravation, Rummy Cube, etc. In fact, I give grandpa all the credit as to why I enjoy playing games like gin, rummy, and even Phase10 on my IPad almost constantly. There was something almost peaceful about sitting around that dining room table Sunday afternoons, and holidays. Well, peaceful might not be the right word. Grandpa loved to win. And when Grandpa didn't win, well, we have all been there. Sometimes games didn't finish, sometimes glasses were spilt, sometimes feelings were hurt. But that was the risk you took when you sat down at that table and those cards were dealt. And I don't regret a second of it. The last time I got to spend time with Grandpa was over thanksgiving weekend this last winter. It was a good visit. Grandpa was in good spirits considering everything that he had been and still was dealing with throughout that last year. We mostly spent that holiday sitting around talking and eating, and eating, and talking, and of course, more eating. I almost didn't even notice that we hadn't touched a playing card the entire time we were up there. But low and behold, the last night we were all there, Grandpa pulls opens the game cupboard. He didn't even say anything as he was doing it. We were still clearing off the table and putting the dishes in the dishwasher, and he just quietly walked over to the cupboard, grabbed the deck of Phase 10 and walked to the dining room table. The rest of us all looked at each other, and almost like we had been conditioned to do it, we all followed him to the table. It was beautifully executed. And just as the last dish was loaded into the dishwasher, the game began. I don't remember the in's and out's of the game, or what we talked about, or even what we did afterwards. But that was the last game I ever played with Grandpa, and I will cherish that for everything that it is. Grandpa was more than a Grandpa to me, and I am still realizing, even now after he's gone, how much of an impression he made on me. He was the one that taught me about work and responsibility, how to drive, and how to use the grill (a skill I still use pretty regularly today). There won't ever be a replacement for him. But that's okay, Because he left all of us pretty well prepared. I love you, Grandpa. Oh, and that last game of Phase 10 we all played; Grandpa won. He wouldn't have had it any other way.
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