Today is my grandfather’s birthday and I’m thinking of him although it doesn’t need to be his birthday for that to happen. I think about him quite often and always with the utmost love in my heart. He was a good man (and believe me, I don’t give that kind of praise easily) who laughed like Popeye the Sailor Man and was fond of wearing hats with little feathers stuck in the band. He was funny and kind and always, always a gentleman of the first order. There is something to be said about memories and the warm, loving glow one gets when they think of someone who is no longer with us.
I was fortunate when I was young to spend a lot of time with him and my grandmother. Our special thing to do on Saturday mornings was feed the ducks at the park….just me and him. We’d take off early and spend the morning throwing pieces of stale bread into the water for my feathered friends (I’ve heard we’re not supposed to do this anymore). I learned later, when he and I were much older and he was ill, that sometimes the bread we tossed wasn’t stale. He’d go to the store the night before just to make we’d have enough. It was Pepper Ridge Farm bread too….the good stuff!
When I was a little older (and yes, we still fed the ducks on Saturday mornings), I would be allowed to walk down to the bus stop on Friday evenings (if it wasn’t too dark) and wait for him to get off the bus (he worked in New York City for Western Union and took the bus every day so Grandma could have the car). I remember him getting off the bus, big smile on his face, tie never loosened but his suit jacket slung over his arm and we’d stroll to the A&P to pick up something special for dinner that night. The A&P had coffee bean grinders at the end of each register. The aroma hit you as soon as you walked in the door. To this day, the smell of fresh ground coffee reminds me of him.
Happy birthday, Grandpa! Thanks for the wonderful memories!
As always, happy reading (and remembering)Marie