Gramps had a sweet tooth. He loved candy. Orange Slices, Bridge Mix, Chocolate Orange Slices. And those giant peppermint sticks. There was always a dish of candy on the coffee table at Grandma and Grandpa's house. After his first heart attack, he cut way back on candy. He said he'd broken his addiction. He would still have a piece now and then, just not as much as before.
Gramps adored ice cream. On a cake cone. Scoopy cones to be exact. It didn't so much matter what brand of ice cream, in fact, he would just buy those square packages of plain vanilla, strawberry, or chocolate. And, often, after dinner, he would make himself an ice cream cone. I can never remember not looking in the freezer and seeing at least three flavors in there. My sister, A. is his grandchild in that respect. She adores ice cream. In my mind, the good part of my mind, I see the two of them eating an ice cream cone together and talking. They were two of a kind. He loved her in a special way. I think he found her to be just his type of person. Laid back, not quick to anger. A lover of books. A stable person, not much drama there. But when they did get mad, whoa. Part of the ache I feel about Gramps being gone is for my sister. She was Grandpa's girl. Still is. He's out there, I firmly believe that.
Gramps once worked for a Japanese family in Idaho. He was of an era where people of different races were often denigrated. He loved and respected that family he worked for. Especially the lady of the house. I'm sorry, I cannot remember the family's name. But anyway, the lady knew Gramps liked sweets. One day she called him to the house and gave him a packet of persimmons dusted with powdered sugar. He adored them. He told me a few years ago that he wished he could find someplace to buy them. You could tell he was very touched that this lady, whom he worked for on their family farm, would take an interest in him.
Gramps was a good brother, and a good son. He worked jobs all his life. From the time his father died when Gramps was eight, he worked to help his family and his mother. He worked for a time handing out playbills for movie theaters. He drove truck. He helped with potato harvests in Idaho as a teenager. He even saved his potato sack sewing needle and showed it to me not long ago. How funny to save something like that. He told us exactly how to sew a potato sack shut. What hard and heavy work that must have been! He helped his mother. His mom, as he said, enjoyed the finer things, and would sometimes extend herself too much. He would pay her bills. I know it pained him that he never beat the stuffing out of his stepfather, who, as he said, was an SOB. I like to think he's taken care of things where he is now. I like to think of Gramps up there -boxing in heaven.
Gramps' own dad died when he was eight. Of TB. He said the last time he saw his dad, was through the window of the sanitarium. I cannot imagine. I also like to think he's having a good, long jaw with his dad. Just catching up. And with his brothers. I know he missed his brothers. The only time I saw him get even teared up was when someone said something about his brother, Lloyd, who died when he was just a young man. I keep a hope that his brothers and his dad welcomed him to heaven and they're up there just having a grand time.
I know he is in heaven. That's where good men go. And my gramps was the best man.
1 comment:
There are times I think of my grandfather, too. It's good that you have some great memories of him.
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