Happy Memorial Day
Ok, so you all know I don't do patriotic very often. But since I miss my PopPop, I'm kind of sad remembering him today.
My Grandfather was a World War II vet, having fought in France and Germany. PopPop was a gentle man, soft-spoken and friendly. He was an avid gardener, and was always happiest working outside among his plants or in his two greenhouses. Cacti were his specialty - he had some of the most unique specimens, and could always get them to flower. One of my first phrases was the name of one of his most impressive cacti - Euphorbia Lactea Cristata. I'm sorry I didn't inherit even a smidgeon of his green thumb - I can't even keep crabgrass alive.
Unlike me and my athiest father - his son - PopPop was a deeply religious man, who faithfully attended church every Sunday until that church had to fold from declining population. PopPop led the choir, calling himself a Shouting Methodist, while my Grandmom played the organ. They both dragged me to church whenever I spent the weekend, half-fearing for my immortal soul. It didn't do any good, but it did impress upon me that, in the right hands, organized religion can be a useful, positive, productive thing - unlike what I see in the world today.
There were always animals in my grandparents' home. There was usually at least one dog, sometimes some fish, and an occasional hamster. My favorite pet, though, was Edgar Allen Crow, a crow (obviously) that lived in a big cage outside. Edgar was huge, and it was my job, when I was there, to feed him. This was usually a can of table scraps. I remember being terrified of this giant black bird, reaching my pudgy child hand into the door of his cage and depositing the can on the floor. Edgar must've been very well trained, as he never pecked me once. PopPop taught him a few words, and he'd caw on command. My father tells me that there were always animals around when he was growing up - turtles, snakes, rabbits, and - his favorite - pigeons.
PopPop was a collector, and a clutterer. His house was one tremendous culch pile. His workbench was always just a huge mass of tools, a plank or two, boxes of nails, and piles of sawdust. He somehow managed to use it just fine, though, making planters, window boxes, and various and sundry other small projects sold at church bazaars. He had enough clay pots stacked out behind the small greenhouse to supply Home Depot.
My grandfather passed away over a year ago, on December 9, 2006, nine years to the day after my grandmother. Today, I honor him, as I miss him.
My Grandfather was a World War II vet, having fought in France and Germany. PopPop was a gentle man, soft-spoken and friendly. He was an avid gardener, and was always happiest working outside among his plants or in his two greenhouses. Cacti were his specialty - he had some of the most unique specimens, and could always get them to flower. One of my first phrases was the name of one of his most impressive cacti - Euphorbia Lactea Cristata. I'm sorry I didn't inherit even a smidgeon of his green thumb - I can't even keep crabgrass alive.
Unlike me and my athiest father - his son - PopPop was a deeply religious man, who faithfully attended church every Sunday until that church had to fold from declining population. PopPop led the choir, calling himself a Shouting Methodist, while my Grandmom played the organ. They both dragged me to church whenever I spent the weekend, half-fearing for my immortal soul. It didn't do any good, but it did impress upon me that, in the right hands, organized religion can be a useful, positive, productive thing - unlike what I see in the world today.
There were always animals in my grandparents' home. There was usually at least one dog, sometimes some fish, and an occasional hamster. My favorite pet, though, was Edgar Allen Crow, a crow (obviously) that lived in a big cage outside. Edgar was huge, and it was my job, when I was there, to feed him. This was usually a can of table scraps. I remember being terrified of this giant black bird, reaching my pudgy child hand into the door of his cage and depositing the can on the floor. Edgar must've been very well trained, as he never pecked me once. PopPop taught him a few words, and he'd caw on command. My father tells me that there were always animals around when he was growing up - turtles, snakes, rabbits, and - his favorite - pigeons.
PopPop was a collector, and a clutterer. His house was one tremendous culch pile. His workbench was always just a huge mass of tools, a plank or two, boxes of nails, and piles of sawdust. He somehow managed to use it just fine, though, making planters, window boxes, and various and sundry other small projects sold at church bazaars. He had enough clay pots stacked out behind the small greenhouse to supply Home Depot.
My grandfather passed away over a year ago, on December 9, 2006, nine years to the day after my grandmother. Today, I honor him, as I miss him.
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posted by Peevish McSnark at
11:53 AM
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