When I think of my maternal Grandpa, the first sensation is the aroma from the cherry tobacco he smoked in his pipe. I see him in his bib overalls with the red leather ball cap on and the pipe in his mouth. I know he must have worn other clothes, I’ve seen pictures of him dressed differently. He lives on in my memory in the bibs, red hat, and sweet smelling pipe though.

Lester was his given name. He was a simple hard working man who loved to tinker in the old railroad building that he had moved onto the property long before I was born. He must have had a thing for red because my memories call up the color red when I think about him. The red leather cap, cherry tobacco, and an old red tractor that we were not supposed to play on.

Grandpa expected us to mind and if we didn’t we got a spanking from those strong firm hands. There was an old apple tree near the kitchen that he had told us that we were not allowed to climb in. As an adult, I realize that the tree was probably suffering from some sort of disease or was unsafe for us to climb in, hence the rule. As a child, the tree just called to be climbed! One afternoon, my uncle and I were climbing in that very tree. (I should explain my uncle was a few months younger than me so we played together a lot.) Anyway, we are in the tree having so much fun when we spot Grandpa walking down the alley towards the house. My uncle was trying to hurry me out of the tree before we got caught. He shoved me with his foot and I fell out of the tree injuring my left arm. Grandma said that she never saw him run so fast through the yard! The first thing he did was yank me up by the injured arm and paddle my backside. Then he saw the pain in my face and said, “Princess did you hurt yourself?” He picked me up and carried me off to his old Chrysler and off to Doc Holland’s office we went. After the cast was applied to my arm, he bought me an ice cream cone and took me home. He never brought up the apple tree episode and I never climbed it again.

There were several times that I made the decision to disobey Grandpa and each time he firmly reminded me with a paddling that obedience was a virtue I needed to pay more attention to. He taught me early on that there are consequences for my actions.

Grandpa had a wonderful laugh and a smile that would light up his whole face. He always seemed to have time for my never ending curiosity about what he was doing. He, more than any other man, became the measuring stick for what I wanted in the man I would spend my life with. I never got to have an adult conversation with Grandpa because we lost him when I was nine. He has been gone for almost 50 years and I still smell that cherry tobacco, hear his laughter, and see that red leather cap. He lives on in his granddaughters memories because he was a good and loving man.

© 2010, Bev Owens. All rights reserved.

When the shoulders of the other kids fell in disappointment over the report assignment, I was grinning from ear to ear and couldn't wait to get started. I've always loved doing research on topics and then writing about what I've found. My newest endeavors are blogging and writing fiction.

Bev Owens

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Tags: grandpa, man, memoir, pipes, red

This entry was posted on September 21, 2010 at 1:39 pm and is filed under Memoirs. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.