I have a lot of wonderful memories and stories of my Grandfather. From fighting with my brothers for the right to comb his hair, to helping him build a huge deck in front of his house (I was so proud to be allowed to use tools!). My Grandfather is a great man.
My Grandfather has done some awesome things in his life. He fought for his country in WWII, he knew JFK, heck, he sired my Mom! And while I understand that it's traditional to write a tribute to someone when they pass on, I think I'd rather do it now, while he's still alive and energetic and able to read it!
Ah but you see, there's the rub. The one thing my Grandfather has not been able to maintain like a man half his age is his eyesight. Oh, he gets by ok, but as much as he loves the Interwebs (and for an octoganarian, he's VERY computer savvy!) he can't read half of it because we all make things too tiny!
So I thought, instead of telling you a bunch of stories about us kids with Grandfather (although I will tell some of those eventually!) I have decided to craft my tribute to him in another way.
I have created a new blog to mirror this one. It will have all the same posts, all the same bad jokes, all the same amazingly innovative ideas, and all the same knee-jerk reactions to current events. And it will all be
I'm talking Big McLarge-Huge sized text so my beloved Grandfather, who has always encouraged my writing all the way back to my school days, can see just what a dissapointment I've become and how I've wasted what little talent God may have accidentally bestowed upon me in a fit of utmost optimism!
The bigger, badder version of this blog is at: bigdethwombat.blogspot.com and from now on, when I post here, I will post the same thing there.
Oh, by the way, I do want to tell one story about my Grandfather. I was young, so some of the details may be a bit off (I know my mom will correct me, God bless her!) but this is the story as I remember it and, therefore, this is how it happened!
I was just shy of eight years old, and living in El Paso, Texas. Gramma and Grandfather lived in Truth or Consequences, New Mexico (yes, it was named after the radio gameshow!) or perhaps Lubbock, Texas. Anyway, it's not important.
So one summer (spring, fall, whatever!) we went for a visit (or maybe camping) and Grandfather took me out to a lake (Crystal Lake?) to go fishing. To my knowledge, I had never fished before. For all I know, neither had he, but from my pre-eight-year-old perspective, he was the embodiment of all fishing acumen since the dawn of time (1950).
So there we were, on the shore (in a boat?) of the lake (or it could have been a stream) when suddenly I felt a tug (mighty heave!) on the line of my Mr. Popeil Pocket Fisherman (this part I'm sure is true!).
I was elated (or terrified)! I was about to catch my first fish, and it was a monster! Grandfather came racing (mosied) to my side, abandoning his own fishing line (putting down a sandwich) to join in the epic struggle! After many hours (seconds) taking turns at the reel of the Pocket Fisherman (he may have just done it for me) we landed the leviathan! It was ten feet long if it was an inch!
Actually, this part is clear. It was about four and a half inches long, minus an inch on either end for head and tail. It was a wide-mouth bass whose mouth should have been alowed to get a lot wider before he ended up in a skillet, but my Grandfather helped me clean that fish (we actually gave it to my Mom to do that!) and we cooked it and ate it. Both bites!
My Grandfather is a great man. He was an epic figure in my young eyes, and I was never above putting an elbow in The Lone Duck's ribs so I could be the first to comb Grandfather's hair when we went to visit. And I'm not above it now!
Grandfather, I love you! Please bookmark bigdethwombat.blogspot.com and visit it often. The posts may not always be about you, but every one of them is for you!
All my love!