my grandpa bob

when i was growing up, my grandpa would sit at the dining room table in their white two-story farm house, eating such delicacies as pickle loaf, oysters, powdered donuts, and chocolate chip cookies. he would wash it all down with instant coffee in a white mug. he would offer me a bite of oysters occasionally, laughing at my disgusted response.

he also enjoyed sitting at hardee's drinking coffee, and eating at hungry's. sometimes we would all go with him and grandma to hungry's to eat. he kept werther's candies on top of the fridge, grandpa candy at its finest.

he had a great interest in astronomy, and together we would look at his astronomy books and marvel about things that couldn't be seen without equipment, made by a God who apparently enjoyed these mostly hidden beauties of star and dust and gas.

he was a korean war veteran. he was drafted by the army and he worked as a tank mechanic. he worked on motors of all sorts until not too very long ago.

he loved his hummingbirds. he had so many feeders out on the clothesline poles, and he and my mom would have a joking competition each year - who had the first hummingbird, who had the most hummingbirds, and who had the last hummingbird.

he loved guns and hated starlings. he would sit outside and shoot starlings as they landed in his yard. (they're awful birds.)

he taught me his love of photography with stories of korea and the voigtlander vitessa camera he bought in the early 1950's. he let me use the camera, a teenager with an antique. he taught me about camera light leaks and bubbles in lens glass.

he told me stories of his puppy that pushed him around in a wagon when he was a little boy, about when the power lines came across the countryside, and about when he had to climb on top of his tractor in the middle of a field to evade a rabid dog!

he was the slowest big red three wheeler driver i have ever seen. he enjoyed putting around on it, around his little woods and down to our house.

he always wore a button-up shirt with a pocket. in the pocket was tobacco and a pipe, always. he would sometimes let us smell his tobacco. it had a sweet and pungent smell. he and grandma gave me my first car, a white chrysler new yorker that was two years older than i was. the paperwork in the glove box was stored in an old, slim tobacco tin.

he let me shoot his muzzle loader, and complimented my aim. from an older, experienced shooter, that was something.

he hunted deer and so did we. he came to see the first deer i shot, nudged the antlers in the leaves with the toe of his boot, and though i can't remember what he said, i remember his pleased expression.

i can't really sum up 30 years of memories in just a few days of thinking and writing, but i can say that grandpa was a good man. he loved to talk and tell stories. he had a great sense of humor and a big grin. i can hear his laugh just thinking about it.

we really lost grandpa a while before he died. he began to forget, his body and mind to fail him. i miss the grandpa that he was even more so now that he is gone from this world.

but now he is whole and new and able in heaven, and for that i am so thankful.