My Grampa

I took this picture of my Gpa while I was visiting him. There's a sadness in his eyes and expression. I think he's lonely and tired.

We visited him and Gma every summer. He took me and my brother camping, fishing, rollerskating, and flea marketing. Mostly just me. He was my favorite and I was (is) his favorite. He'd wake me up in the mornings and I'd get into his truck that smelled like pipe tobacco and off we'd go. He taught me how to do the "Flea Hop" and the "Circle Waltz" and how you should buy multiples of the things you like coz they won't have more when it's time to get a new one of whatever it was and to ask "is this your best price?". One summer, he made us scooters out of plumbing pipe, skate board wheels, and wood. Their neighborhood sidewalks were mega bumpy so we had tons fun rolling around the neighborhood. Their attic was filled with old toys, clothes, and "mysterious" things. I could spend hours up there rummaging through "treasures". Gpa tried his best to teach us how to play Bumper Pool on his table in the basement. He didn't have much patience for mis-shots. "Pay attention to the angle of your stick, where it's pointing is where your ball is going." His garage was packed with tools and nails and screws and bags and boxes of stuff. No room for the car. The basement was packed with tons of stuff as well. He had a maze of walkways to get to his back "work room" area where many a project was in process. Grampa would play Yahtzee and cards with us. "Hotsie Totsie, I've got a Yahtzee!" While he watched Barney Miller on TV at night, I would lay my head on the arm of HIS chair and he'd stroke my hair or comb it. Sometime in high school, one summer I painted him a watercolor of items I associated with him - Yahtzee, his glasses, a pouch of his chewing tobacco, and cards. He has it hanging "where I can see it all the time" he says. When I started visiting him about 5 years ago, he took me bowling with him. "Pay attention to the angle of your thumb. Wherever it's pointing is where your ball is going."

During this visit when I was making him meatloaf, he told me of a memory he has of me asking him to make meatballs every time I came to visit them over the summers. He said I liked squishing the meat mixture and watching him roll the meatballs. I wish I could share that memory with him. I know it's in there, but I've completely forgotten it.

Here he is smirking at one of my smart-ass comments.