STORY
My Grandpa
Grandpa was an ornery old cuss. At least, that’s what Grandma always said.
As a wild child trying my hardest to stay in Grandpa’s shadow, I thought he was my superhero!
In my child’s mind, there wasn’t anything my grandpa couldn’t do, and he was bigger than life.
I never remember a day when he wasn’t turned out in his cowboy hat, tall boots, jeans, belt and buckle, a long-sleeved western shirt, and wild rag around his neck; heaven forbid, if you called it a bandana.
Grandpa was tanned from workin’ in the weather from sun up to sun down, six days a week. That man had calluses on his big hands that would choke a full-grown mule!
He woke before the chickens and ate his fried eggs over easy, bacon, and biscuits every morning with half a pot of black coffee. He fed every animal, made sure they were healthy and cared for, then he tended his fields and was home for his dinner, which was lunch.
He usually ate a steak or two, his favorite mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans, greens or pintos, and cornbread. Sometimes he’d have seconds and a good half gallon of sweet iced tea. Then, it was back to work until Supper time, the evening meal.
He kept his farm lookin’ nice, his animals fat and sassy, and his crops plentiful. He never complained about the heat or the cold. He said it wasn’t any use in complainin’ ’cause it was going to be what it was if he liked it or not.
I remember hearing my grandpa say a swear word only two times, both on the same day.
The first was when I went to town with him, and a man opened his car door into Grandpa’s freshly painted red truck. He got out, looked at his truck, said, “Well damn!” and proceeded to give the man’s car a swift kick in the door.
The second swear word followed immediately after when he broke his big toe. He hobbled back into the truck, looked at me, and said, “That’s why you should never lose yore damned temper. Grandma can just come back to town her dern self!” and we went back to the farm where he hobbled to the tractor, and we did not see him for several hours.
The evenings were spent sitting on the porch. Grandpa would pick his guitar and sing while Grandma had us kids helping shuck corn, snap peas, or make homemade ice cream! Those were the best of times.
Grandpa taught me how to ride a horse, how to care for an orphaned calf, and how to raise a garden. He taught me how to drive a tractor, how to fish, hunt, and respect the land, the animals, and my elders.