My Grandpa
 

My Grandpa died 42 years ago today. I only knew him for 18 years, and he's been gone twice that many, but I still miss him.

We listened to Red Sox games together on the radio, eating popcorn until too late into the night (extra innings), and he taught me how to use a scythe. We talked about all kinds of things while I helped him pick strawberries or pull weeds or play a round of croquet.

I can close my eyes right now and smell Old Spice and pipe tobacco.

*sigh*

Wonderful memories. :hug:

Glad you have good memories...don't you wish you could put those visual/olfactory memories in an album?

I have close memories of my Grandpa. He was a railroad man and a fisherman..:hug:

I know those memories are a treasure to you B2Y! Old Spice and sawdust are my memory stirring scents of my Papaw B.:) :hug:

you're lucky you got to have those memories of having a grandpa. Both of my biological grandpa's died before I was born. (maternal grandpa died in '42, paternal died in '61)

I lucked out and my mom's mom remarried and so I had my Grandpa Lindsey...and then I lucked out on my dad's side of the family for having my great-uncle Fred (paternal grandmother's baby brother) I miss my uncle Fred. He died April 1st, 2000. I really miss him. He made the best spaghetti sauce, and his favorite color was pink.

My Grandpa Lindsey was a Methodist minister. He was really cool even tho I didnt know him that well. Only got to visit him four or five times in my life. (my dad was a workaholic for a long time and wouldnt take vacations very often) He died in '91 or '92 of pancreatic cancer. He didnt deserve that. That's a horrible death.

Aww! Such great memories, B2Y! It warmed my heart.:hug:

Debbie, that is brilliant! B2Y, you could this! You have such an talent for words and writing as well as grammar. (Sometimes I am embarrassed as I type so fast when posting I don't pay attention to grammar and I always think - "B2Y is going to see that and roll her eyes.:o:D) Back to what I was saying. You could write some wonderful books or short stories and capture these memories.

Last semester I took a writing class, as many as you know. I wrote a paper on Faulkner. I started the paper out by talking about being a painter and the tools I use as a painter. I then described how Faulkner uses words as his tool to "paint" a picture. Faulkner could use his words in such a way that you can see, feel, taste, smell, and hear whatever he described. As I did my research, I found a short story that he wrote about a painter and a writer. The writer spoke/described with his words and the painter painted what was described. (Even though I mess up grammatically, with spelling, etc. on here I did get an A+ on the paper. LOL)

You would be awesome at doing this. I do hope you consider this and when you publish, let me know as I would love, love to read it.

my grandpa was a crusty, grouchy old dude. He did smell of a pipe, but he wasnt a fan of children. He used to take a jar of pennies, and scatter them across the yard. He would say "there are 237 pennies. dont come back till you have them all" I dont think he knew how many there were, I think he guessed high, and kept us out of his house, and hair. I didnt feel well once, and he flipped out. Wanted me to sit out back and watch everyone else hunt. and we only got to keep half the pennies we found. :eek: what a jerk.

This thread made me think of my Grandpa. We called him "Granddaddy". I never knew my biological Grandfather. Grandaddy was Mimi's second husband - my Dad's stepfather. My biological Grandfather died before I was born so "Granddaddy" was the only Grandpa I ever knew.

I loved him. He had diabetes and Mimi gave him Insulin shots. It used to scare me to death! I'd cry and run hide until it was over. He said it didn't hurt but I'd be mad at Mimi briefly.....till it was time to eat or she gave us a treat of some kind! :rolleyes: I sure do miss them.