I always look forward to seeing Grandaddy, his heartfelt hug, then leaning back with his arms still around me, with a twinkle in his eye, he says, “You are so pretty!” At that moment I feel uniquely special.
Most of my memories associated with Grandaddy take place at the house my dad grew up in, in Arlington, VA. Since childhood, I loved exploring the woods behind the house, the paths Grandaddy created, the beautiful flower gardens and honeysuckle patch. Every year, my cousins, sister and I were warned about poison ivy in very specific places before Grandaddy would eventually just come out with us and make sure we didn't tangle ourselves into the ivy. That negated the scariness of the woods for me, that Grandaddy always came through to protect us from the scary thing he warned us about.
Right around Grandaddy's retirement, they added a sheltered back porch to the house. At first, we were averse to change, but now I see it as an idyllic testament to what Grandaddy enjoyed most about his home. While relishing Grammie's amazing breakfasts (country ham, grits and redeye gravy, or blueberry pancackes fried in rendered bacon fat), I was entertained with the willing birds (and squirrels!) that broke their fast on Grandaddy's bird feeders. Always at arm's length were books to identify the birds and insects that frequented the welcome terrarium he had created.
In the evening the porch provided front-row seats to the spectacle of lightning bugs and the symphony of cicadas, frogs, crickets, owls and other mysterious creatures we heard but never saw. In the heat of the Virginia summer I sacrificed the AC and cracked open the window of my Aunt Kathy's room (where I slept when I visited) to keep those night sounds next to me through the night. The serene world that Grandaddy created helped to lull me to sleep and keep me comforted through the night.
Grandaddy taught me how to shuffle cards when we were in Estes Park the summer of 1984. To this day I shuffle like a pro, proudly telling my friends that my grandfather taught me how to do it (whether they are interested or not). Along with that memory I think of the walks through the woods at Estes, seeing a chipmunk for the first time, and smelling the pine needles that reminded me of Christmas. This, I believe, was an extension of the world of nature he created at home.
Grandaddy’s generosity knows no bounds. I can’t count how many wonderful meals and vacations he has treated me to. I especially loved the dinners he took us to in Arlington, which helped to form the diverse culinary tastes I have to this day. I’ll never forget: I was about 13 years old, sitting next to Grandaddy at one of these dinners, and I managed to awkwardly shoot something from a skewer straight into his lap. I had stained his trousers with the sauce on the kebab, which would usually send him into a fit! But Grandaddy sensed my embarrassment and acted like nothing had happened, bless him. He reserves a certain forgiveness for family, on which side I'm fortunate to be on.
Of course, I can’t leave out the beach. This vacation that Grandaddy so graciously bestows upon us each year is something I look forward to more than anything else. Five days of sun, surf, blue crab, and family… it is a welcome respite from whatever might be happening in my life at the time. No matter what, I know that I have this week every year to be with my family, be myself, and bear no expectations except to love my family. I don't know how anyone could beat that.
When I was old enough, my parents told me I should thank Grandaddy for everything he treats us to, and now it comes as second nature to do so. I often feel like “thank you” is not enough, because it means so much more to me than just a vacation or a meal. These are times when I gather with a family whom I love, and those occasions are priceless and offer countless treasured memories.
Thank you, Grandaddy. I hope you know I love you beyond anything I can express in words. You deserve every ounce of it.
