Today my Grandpa Harv would have turned 100 ... and he would have been just as ornery today as he was at 76 when he passed away. That man could tell a joke and loved to laugh at one just as much. They weren't always (and most likely not) the type you could tell in mixed company or around children, but oh, he loved a good laugh! My Uncle Dean picked up that trait from his dad and he looks and sounds just like him these days...right down to that little sparkle in his eye that lets you know he's got a good one just waiting to be told.
One of the clearest memories I have of countless hours spent in Grandpa's company was the first day he took me fishing. We went up to a sagebrush-surrounded reservoir somewhere close to New Plymouth (I'm thinking Spangler or Sage Hen) and he had only one rule for me: if you're gonna catch a fish, you have to clean it. Pretty simple. So, he showed me how to clean the first one he caught. I was SO excited! I couldn't have been more than 7 or 8 and that's all I remember of the day....cleaning EVERYBODY'S fish! I don't think I caught a thing, but oh, I was a happy little girl :)
Many Saturday nights growing up, Grandpa and Grandma would take my brother Bart and me over to the Eastside Cafe in Ontario. Grandpa and I would have the fried chicken, Grandma the #2 Chinese meal and Bart would order a cheeseburger and a big Coke. Drama always ensued, because invariably Bart would be full by the time his meal came, having drained the Coke. But he'd sit there under the watchful ...ok, glaring... eye of Grandpa until he finished every bite of dinner. June, the manager, would bring over Grandpa's special "Fat Fong" fortune cookies that would always make him laugh, even though ours usually didn't. I really didn't understand why I couldn't have one of my own...
Grandpa had a rare talent: the ability to spot a tiny, succulent head of asparagus growing on the opposite side of the road while driving down a country lane at 70 miles an hour! We'd go out aspara"grass" hunting, as Grandma Sarah called it, during the spring, ready with our paper grocery sacks, and jump out when he'd slam on the brakes and holler "over there - looks like a good one!" He'd find a good stand beside a ditch bank or in an orchard or field and we'd fill our sacks to the brim. I never liked the taste of asparagus as a kid, but would give anything for one of those big sacks right now!
Grandpa lost his leg later in his life as the result of poor circulation from smoking. He wore a prosthesis, which was known as his "wooden leg," even though it was made of synthetic materials. One day, my brother wanted to show his friend Gary his Grandpa's wooden leg. Before anyone realized what he was doing, he hauled off and whacked Grandpa a good one right on the shin bone with a hammer....but he hit the wrong leg! We didn't see Bart again until after dark, when he finally climbed down out of the tree in the backyard because he was more hungry than afraid. But Grandpa really did just get the best laugh out of it...he said later he surely couldn't have chased him down!
All of his grandkids had our special relationships with Grandpa, but I think he understood me more than anyone in my life. Even though I was not related by blood, having been adopted into this wonderful clan by my Mom and Dad, I was the one who loved to smoke and drink, tell inappropriate jokes now and then and drive my car for hours on end just like he did, just to think and figure out what was in my mind. To this day, when I take a road trip of any length, he usually shows up at some point, hovering around my shoulders, like the angel & devil he could be, just to check in.
Whenever we were hurting, he'd always say "damma luck" and I hear his voice when I've got a big heartache. He'd have cried right along with me when I lost my two beautiful English Setters, Rooster and Jenna. I fell in love with the breed as a little girl, trying to ride his Maggie around the backyard with my cousins.
Grandpa consoled me through my first divorce, but confided one day that he never could see us together, even though he loved Mark dearly. He also told me during that time I was being mean to my dog...hurt like hell to hear that from him, but I was in a crazy mode and leaving the little sweetie all by herself far too much. So I gave her back to Mark. Wise man.
He wouldn't have known what the hell to do when I brought home my next husband. Love him as I did, I had no illusions about my Grandpa, who would surely have had something to say about me marrying a black man. But I do know this beyond a shadow of a doubt: he would have seen immediately how much I loved Curtis and accepted him without question. They would have had many a belly laugh together, I know. And at the end, a really big "damma luck." Oh, Grandpa, sometimes I'm glad you weren't here for that pain.
He told me not to have any regrets at the end of my life...this from a man who at the time was in a hospital bed dying of emphysema. He told me the only day he wished he could have back in his life was the day BEFORE he started smoking as a young man. Even after watching him die of that dreadful addiction, it took me 20 more years to quit. And I've tried to live my life according to his advice.
He knew me so well. As I'd go out the door, so often he'd say:
"Be good....and if you can't be good....be careful!"
I try, Grandpa - I try :) Happy Birthday - I love you.
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