Skip to main content

My Other Grandfather

My other grandfather wasn’t at all curmudgeonly and I don’t think I ever saw him get mad. My grandmother recently told me a story, though, about the maddest she’d ever seen him.

One day Granddad came home from work and found me sitting on their front porch. I often walked there after school, and evidently on this day, their front door was locked. (Unusual – I grew up in a town where no one locked anything. I didn’t have a key until I went to college.) He opened the door and let me in, and I got a snack and my mom came to get me and we went home, and nothing was said about it. When my grandma came home, however, he let fly. “Don’t you ever lock that door and leave my granddaughter sitting on the porch, in the cold, again!” he said. He was mad. My grandma said she just couldn’t have felt worse about it.

I got a little teary when she told this story. Granddad wasn’t a grouch, but he was never overtly affectionate, either, and to hear this demonstration of how much he cared – well, it meant a lot to me.

On the other hand – I don’t remember this at all. I have no memory of being locked out of their house, of him coming to my rescue. (Although as my mom said when I told her about it – if it had happened, it probably wouldn’t have bothered me a bit, as long as I had a library book with me.) I even suspect that it may have happened to one of my siblings instead of me.

In the end it doesn’t matter. The moral of the story, the core of the memory, is that my granddad loved me – loved us. The details are unimportant.


Chris said…
You go, Ernest!
Karen said…
I do remember the incident, but I don't remember that he was mad about it. You're right though, the details don't matter.
aimee said…
I thought that it happened to me! Isn't that funny? I remember sitting on their front porch and it was pretty cold, waiting for someone to let me in. I don't remember why though, so it might not have been me. Anywho, I love that Grandad got mad. He wasn't one to show his emotions, so it is great to know how much he loved us.
aimee said…
Either way, it is a nice story about Grandad. :)

Popular posts from this blog

New Math

This word problem was on Mallory's math homework last week:

Lesia has 32 stickers. Diana has a few stickers. Lesia adds their stickers. She has to regroup when she adds. How many stickers does Lesia have? Circle the number.

We puzzled til our puzzlers were sore, but we still couldn't figure out the answer. I wrote a note beside the problem: "Mrs. G., this problem didn't make sense to either Mallory or her parents."

The next day the paper came back with a note from Mrs. G. She circled the last line of the problem and wrote:

"Misprint! This should have said Diana."

Okay! Whew! I was relieved to know that I wasn't, in fact, dumber than a second grader.

Except then I realized that I still didn't understand how the answer could be 3, 5, 6, or 8.*

I can't wait til she gets to algebra.

*Unless what they're calling "regrouping" is what we used to call "carrying the ones." In which case the answer would be 8. I think. Maybe.

Yard Sale. YARD SALE!

Anyone who doesn’t hear Tom-Hanks-as-Woody-the-Cowboy screaming that line…hasn’t spent much time around small children. Or at least around small children who like to watch Disney movies.

We had a yard sale this weekend – we being me, Chris, his sister Amy, and his mom. Yikes, it was exhausting. There was much hauling of boxes and furniture and standing around and chasing Mallory and Phoebe about the driveway all Saturday long. I made a hundred bucks – not too shabby, I guess. Chris made about $75 selling the “dregs” of his toy collection. The main point, however, was to sell our old living room furniture because we’re getting a new sofa and chair today (it’s being delivered as we speak!). We did sell our beat-up love seat for $25, but there were no takers for the beat-up sofa sleeper or the recliner. Alas, but that’s the way it goes.

Most of what I sold was baby stuff – clothes, bouncy seats, playmats, and so forth. It was a relief to see it go. Right after Phoebe was born I had the urg…

Confederation, confederation, confederation

Mallory has a big Social Studies test today. She’s not doing well in Social Studies, this year. When I asked her why her grades were so low, she said, “I don’t like Social Studies. Besides, no one can be good at everything.” I thought this was a fair point, but let her know that it was not acceptable for her to do quite so poorly, whether she liked it or not.

We studied for hours for this test. We read the chapter twice, summarized main points, went over vocabulary words, filled in blanks and did true/false quizzes. There were moments when I despaired – as when I asked, “The villages of the Cherokee people came together to form a...” and she said, “Um...bison?” But I think she knows the material pretty well; honestly I’m not even sure what else we could have done to get her prepared. I told her we would like for her to get at least a B.

I know she’s nervous. I’m nervous for her. I slept poorly all night.

But, I also know more than I really wanted to know about the early peoples of …