Blog Challenge:
Share a story about one of your grandparents.
My mother's dad was an interesting man. He was mostly a quiet, soft-spoken man. He wasn't comfortable in social settings with large groups of people. He was more comfortable one-on-one. Growing up, I remember few conversations with him clearly. He was more likely to sit back and listen than to join in the conversation, at least with us kids.
There are several memories involving Grandpa that stand out. The summer that I was 8 (I think) we spent what feels like the entire summer with Grandpa and Grandma. Grandpa had fallen at work and broke his back. Mom took me, my sister, and our baby brother to Wyoming so she could help Grandma take care of Grandpa while he recovered. They got Grandpa a hospital bed, which was set up in a corner of their living room. That bed stayed there until his death while I was in college. He found that bed more comfortable than his regular bed or the couch and spent much of each day there.
Grandpa love to walk. They lived "in the country" outside the town limits. He would wander up and down his stretch of road. I suspect the walking felt better on his back, too. We moved to Wyoming when I was 9 and quite often we passed Grandpa on the road....walking.
One summer, Grandpa invited us over to see what he called "our owl." It turns out a wild owl had claimed possession of the tree outside Grandpa's carport. Grandpa stood besides us while we each took turns petting the owl. Grandpa would walk behind the tree so the owl would turn its head 360 degrees. We thought that we pretty amazing! Grandpa and Grandma began to collect owl items....or maybe they began to receive owl items as gifts. Either way, to this day I still think of them when I see a brown owl.
Grandpa also taught us how to hatch monarch butterflies. He built wooden cages with mesh wiring and took us out hunting for caterpillars. We would feed the caterpillars until they formed their chrysalis. We watched closely to see when they were "hatching" from these cocoons and then set them free once their wings were dry. This was a routine summer activity. To this day, every time I see a monarch butterfly or caterpillar I think of Grandpa.
Grandpa was an avid reader. That seems to be family trait! He loved history and found the Book of Mormon a great history of the Native American people. I remember him sharing some of his favorite stories from the Book of Mormon and wondering why he didn't realize it was a sacred book. Perhaps he knows now.
Grandpa didn't say much, but he showed he loved us in many little ways. The last time I saw him alive is still burned in my heart. That summer I was in my early 20's and had driven to Wyoming from college. My parents and family were to meet me there but I arrived first. I pulled into Grandpa and Grandma's yard and was surprised that Grandma hadn't come out to greet me. I opened their back door and called out. No answer. Again, I was surprised that no one was home but the door was unlocked. I stepped inside and called out again. Grandma appeared at the bottom of the stairs to the basement, wearing fishing wading boots. More surprises! I started to descend the stairs and realized that their entire basement was flooded to about knee level. Both Grandpa and Grandma were down there trying to clear the drain in the cement floor. Grandpa looked up when he heard me. Keep in mind that his basement had close to three feet of water in it. Personal belongings were floating throughout the room. He was bent over, up to his elbows in water, trying to use the plunger to clear the clogged drain. He looked over his shoulder at me and called out, "Just give me a minute and I will get you some ice cream!" Ice cream. He was in the middle of a crisis and he wanted to share ice cream with me.
I still think of him whenever I eat ice cream, too. And I always have a tear in my eye.
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