|LFL: A funny personal story for your amusement . . .|
|Re: Very likely that Plugz doesn't know any longer when he is lying. (cuckoo clock sounds). -- LateForLunch||Post Reply||Top of thread||Forum|
Posted by: Russ Walden ® |
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Actually, two stories -- both funny.
My paternal grandfather lived with us on the farm before we moved to California. How he came there was a story in itself. He was living alone in a little cabin in a nearby small town. He was then in his 70s, my grandmother had died years before, and his ten kids were off living their own lives -- we were the nearest. We saw him on our weekly trip to town. He was getting along just fine.
Then, one day, there was a family gathering at our place. A lot of crying and praying since he had a bunch of Baptist daughters. I got thrown out, 'cuz I was just a little kid, but I sneaked in thru the back door to try to find out what it was all about. The only meaningful comment I overheard was something about Grandpa and "a gypsy girl." Then I got thrown out again. I later asked my Dad what it was about and was, naturally, told it was none of my business.
The next day, Grandpa was back on the farm living with us. Among my important visual memories was Grandpa plowing, with a single-tree plow -- not bad for a man in his 70s. He was an old man, and I was just a little kid, and he liked to talk. He told me stories about working on the Mississippi river boats and stuff like that. Once in a while, I would ask him about the "gypsy girl." He would just shake his head and grin and change the subject. I never did learn any more.
He preceded us to California, where he was living with his eldest son who was a builder in Salinas. After we moved there, he migrated between living with us and my uncle. He died while I was off in the military. He was 94 years old and, according to the doctor, "his parts wore out." At the time, he was living with my uncle, so, naturally, there was a family gathering there to see him off -- naturally featuring all the crying and praying that you get with a bunch of Baptist daughters. At some point, he asked to speak with my Dad alone.
I heard my Dad tell this story a number of times. It went like this:
"I'm an old man, I've had a good life and I ain't afeard of dyin', but there is one thing I want you to do for me before I die."
Naturally, my Dad asked what that was. The old man said,
"Git them blubberin' women outa here and let me die in peace."
My Dad ushered all the blubberin' women out and left the old man alone to die in peace, which he did shortly thereafter.
I heard my Dad tell that story a number of times, but I never heard him tell it without laughing. Later on, I realized that his father had given him a great gift: Look death square in the eye and make a joke about it.
To my knowledge, there was never a case of dementia, or similar, in his family. My goal is to exceed his record of 94 -- without the plowing, and the gypsy girl is not on my "approved activities" list.
Fun to remember.
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