When I was little, my aunt and uncle had a beautiful swimming pool. It had a hot tub, a tiled dolphin at one end, a diving board and an automatic pool cleaner known as Abe. The back yard was mostly concrete, but had a lovely dining area and it was surrounded by Italian cyprus for a sense of seclusion.
They lived less than a mile from our house, so we made regular use of their pool. I think it’s safe to say that, even though I took swimming lessons too, that pool is where I learned to swim – and it’s certainly where I learned to love the water.
While I was happy to paddle around in that pool until I was pale and wrinkly all over, apparently, I didn’t think too highly about diving under the water.
Then one day, after having been fished out by one of my parents so that i could eat – probably some sort of barbecued meat – I was playing on the ground next to my grandfather’s chair.
As I played, something suspicious caught my eye.
“Grandpa!” I shouted. This was very disturbing. “What happened to your toe!?” I pointed down at his foot to where one of his toes was missing.
He looked down at his foot and, without missing a beat, gasped loudly. “Oh, no! Where has it gone?” He looked at me with a hint of fear in his eyes. “I must have lost it in the pool. Will you go find it for me?”
Looking back, everyone there must have been doubled over in laughter as I nodded enthusiastically and leapt into the pool, diving to the bottom of the deep end and searching frantically for Grandpa’s missing toe. A toe that he’d actually lost many years earlier in a lawn-mowing accident.
For years after that, every time I went back to my aunt and uncle’s to go swimming, I hunted for that toe. When they finally moved from that house (I must have been about 12 at the time) I was aware of the fact that the toe wasn’t actually in the pool, but I still felt some guilt about never having found it.
And Grandpa never let me live it down either. Just a couple of months ago he teased me for still not having returned his missing digit to him.
I was lucky enough to grow up with my grandparents near by. Very near by. They lived in a large trailer in our driveway for several years. Whenever I felt like paying them a visit, I’d just go out of our front door and knock on theirs.
I could often hear my Grandpa’s big diesel six-wheeler pulling into the drive when he got home from work and my grandma was often hanging out laundry or soaking up the sunshine on their makeshift patio.
There was the sweet smell as Grandma fried potatoes and onions for their dinner and I sometimes got little pieces of candy as I chattered away to them on the vinyl banquette seats or played with the avocado shag carpet on the stairs that led up to the tiny sleeping quarters.
Often, Grandpa would head off to the shower on the other side of the trailer – to wash up before dinner. “I’ve got my umbrella with me so I don’t get wet,” he’d inform me and I’d protest wildly.
Our family often went camping out on the Yuba River – a wide, shallow river that snakes through the Sierra Nevadas. Fourth of July and Memorial Day weekends were almost always spent there.
We’d walk upstream with big inner tubes and ride the rapids back to the campsite, my dad would build a swimming pool for me out of boulders, I’d try to catch minnows while the rest of the family panned for gold.
We’d walk out to the shooting range and I’d pick up empty shotgun shells, we’d eat the most delicious soft-serve ice cream from the General Store and we’d sit around the campfire at night, cooking hotdogs or steaks and roasting marshmallows over the fading embers. As the logs popped, Grandpa would sing “That must be a bug, ‘cuz worms don’t pop like that,” and I’d squeal in delighted disgust.
“It’s ‘poach’, Grampa. Not ‘poach!'” – the word was ‘porch’.
Natural herbal medicine therapy was gradually accepted by more and more people since it has less adverse events and great low price viagra effects on the disease compared to the western medicine. Generic is viagra uk shop a cheap prescription drug Generic drugs work exactly the same as prescription drugs. cialis tablets india Medical Treatment It’s important to remember that if a man has to take it at least 40 minutes before any sexual activity. What is kamagra there for then? Kamagra buy and impress your partner in the most passionate way every time. viagra without prescriptions uk
Friday night dinners at the steakhouse. Grandpa would never miss a chance to remind me about the time that, as a toddler, I ate a bowl of whipped butter at that very restaurant, thinking it was ice cream.
I always got him and Grandma the refills on their drinks and I’d often bring them their desserts too.
When I told my grandparents that I was engaged, Grandpa’s response was: it takes some of my grandkids a long time to find someone who will put up with them, but they eventually find good ones.
He’d sit in his green velvety recliner, telling stories and clinking his false teeth. We’d heard the stories tens, maybe hundreds of times before, but listened intently every time anyway.
One of those stories was about how he and my Grandma drove – practically flew – across the country after I was born, because my mum was extremely ill. They got pulled over for speeding. As he took the ticket from the police officer, he apologised and explained the situation. “If you want to give me another ticket, go ahead and wait for me just up the road, because I’ll be going as fast as I can.” The officer nodded and wished him luck.
There was also the story about how, on returning to the US after serving in the South Pacific during WW2, he found himself all but stranded in Seattle. He went to the Salvation Army and was given $5 to live off and travel back to Missouri until his pay kicked in.
Playing Farkle.
When he’d call me ‘tadpole’.
The way he said ‘Missouri’: “Mizzer-ruh”
When he met Pumpkin in August, he said to me: “That’s an awfully pretty little girl you’ve got there – I don’t know where she got it from,” then gave me that cheeky grin of his.
The last time I saw him – I told him to listen to the doctors and that I’d see him at Christmas. I made sure to give him a big hug and he said goodbye to the baby.
Goodbye, Grandpa. I’m so grateful that Pumpkin got to met you, but I’m going to miss you terribly.
Such a beautiful post, sounds like you have some treasured memories x
Thanks. Yes, many good memories that I’ll always enjoy.
Great memories that will last forever. Do you remember the “lullaby” that dad sang for all the kids, grandkids and great-grandkids? It’s called “I won’t go huntin’ with you Jake”. You can find it on YouTube. Definitely something Pumpkin would enjoy.
I didn’t remember that song until I heard it. Oh, there really wasn’t anyone else like him.