Story #3

THANKS GRANDPA

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Although much to his expressed, or at least what he wanted other folks to believe was his expressed outward disdain for same, Pop-Pop was a storyteller himself, and boy could he spin a tale. Despite having to be dragged to my grandmother's family reunions each summer and being relegated to the inevitable circle of old folks sharing family lore, Pop-Pop was revered for almost always being one of the circle's most avid contributors. Yes, the fleece and fluff from Pop-Pops elongated, well spun, and carefully crafted tales would warm and wrap me tight enough to last my whole year long. They sustained my memories until we were able to visit again each summer on our annual reunion vacation trips. They were pilgrimages really, to the hometown where my folks grew up, where they shared their own wonderful memories of growing up. To me it was a wonderful, almost magical place. At least that is how I remember it as a young lad. 

All my boyhood fantasies were played out there in vivid detail. Firecrackers and carnival rides on the 4th of July, fishing, hunting, Indian trails and stories, picnics, a magical place in the woods (just an old trailer on a small dirt lot) that had a stream for cooling melons and cray fish sleuthing. There were deer watching drives, hotdogs, attic and basement explorations, fishing in the creek, hunting stories, laying on a real bear rug that Pop-Pop shot and watching great 1960's kid television shows, and all the other kinds of magical wonders that only a small lad can appreciate. And, although I would not understand or appreciate the true significance of this wonderful place for many years, it was so much more. More, because it was filled with so many wonderful people that I loved and admired. So many wonderful relatives, my Grandmother, Aunts, Uncles, Cousins, my brothers and sister, and of course Mom & Dad and Pop-Pop. 

This story is dedicated to Pop-Pop, a wonderful man, in this wonderful place, who despite his aging and ailments treated me so special. He made time to take me fishing, to stuff me with hot dogs, to give me a namesake nick name, and so much more. Most of all however, he helped me learn to love and appreciate the kindness and patience that would help and inspire me to try to become the kind of man that I want to be. He was such a large person to love, and as I age, I realize what he must have been feeling as well. I realize how much he likely concealed, and most of all, how well he kept it from me. Though he had ailments, he only ever showed me his strength. It is that same strength and spirit, of faith and conviction, that inspires me to pass it along to my own children and grandchildren.  

That leaves me with tears in my eyes, and little more to say than, I love you so much, and thanks Pop-Pop, thanks so very much indeed!

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