We used to travel to Idaho a lot when we were kids to visit Grandma and Grandpa’s house. It was and still is one of my favorite places. It seemed as though every time my family was up there we would break something. Two things in particular stick out in my mind: when Josh and I ran into the back of the shed with the 4-wheeler and basically took out the whole wall, and when I broke the window in the camper by banging on it when Meghan wouldn’t let me out, I also think we ran over a tree with the 4-wheeler too….oh goodness. Each time something happened, I remember being terrified of telling Grandpa. Scared of how he would react I guess. But there was never rage, or fear, or giant punishments, he would just follow us out quietly and take a look at the damage. I remember thinking “Wow, that’s it? you aren’t gonna beat us or sell us to pay for the damage?” Oh the juvenile mind. I am so glad he was so patient with us. It meant a lot to me then and still does. I don’t know if patience is something that comes to mind when you think of Grandpa but that is definitely how he handled these situations with us.
Another memory I have is the time we wanted to go to the sand dunes to play. It was very hot outside. I don’t remember the temperature, but it had to be at least in the 90’s. He would just laugh and say “Go touch the roof on the garage and see how hot it is. That is how hot the sand is going to be.” We didn’t believe him and eventually he caved, probably to teach us a lesson. The sand was definitely scorching hot and not fun to play in. Turned out he was right, which always made him happy.
I miss his painful squeezing bear hugs, his collar bone grabbing, and his deep belly laughs. I always felt that he loved me and cared about my life. Love you Grandpa. I look forward to more games of Phase 10, Skip-Bo, and Aggravation with you when we are all together again.
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