I’ve been thinking a great deal about my Grandad these past few days, though I’m not entirely sure why. Maybe it’s the fact that summer is coming to a close, and those summer days were when I would go and spend several days or even weeks with him in Bay City, Texas.
Summer with Grandad was relatively routine, running errands, watching TV, and helping with projects around the house. But I learned some valuable lessons during those days as well. I learned the skill of balancing on a railroad track as we would drive down to the switchyard in town and watch two diesel locomotives pass back and forth with various cargos. I learned that when you spend all afternoon picking up railroad spikes, your hands turn a muddy brown and stink like metal for days and days, no matter how much you wash them. I learned that nachos can be a breakfast food, especially when tortilla chips are piled with eggs, bacon, beans, cheese, and salsa. But it has to be eaten at a greasy spoon joint (ours was called Diamond S) while sitting in sticky leather booth seats. I learned the value of reading a book on a summer afternoon while Grandad would nap on the couch, or how to run and care for a Lionel Electric Train. I learned about great movie stars like Gene Autry, Roy Rogers, Jimmy Stewart, and John Wayne. I learned how to use my imagination as we would drive and listen to old radio programs. My personal favorites were Gunsmoke, The Shadow, The Six Shooter, The Jack Benny Program, and The Six Shooter. I came to realize that all Godzilla movies were essentially the same, but that didn’t make them any less entertaining. And that latenight conversations and the sharing of stories were a sacred and special time to be appreciated and enjoyed.
There were, of course, many more, like the taste of Dr. Pepper on a hot summer afternoon, or watching a creek fill up with water during an afternoon thunderstorm. And how to make the perfect pot of beans! I could keep going on and on, but what was my point again?
