Wednesday, October 24, 2007

Ever have a funny thought or memory pop randomly into your head? I'm sitting here at work and remembering a story my mom told me about me as a child.

I don't remember how old she said I was, but, my grandmother got me my first diary.

My mom said I was so excited, so proud, that I ran into the next room where my grandfather (who we called Pop-Pop, don't ya just love it?) was and with a big smile on my face cried out,

"Pop-Pop! I have a diarrhea!"

Poor Pop-Pop--Mom said he was speechless for a minute. I can just picture him sitting there in his recliner, tall lean legs sticking out, curly hair poking up from his head, and a serious and perplexed look on his face as he tried to find out why I was excited about having diarrhea.

Of course my mom explained to him that I meant diary.

I do miss my silly Pop-Pop...the man who used to pretend to eat ants (and we kids all believed he really DID consume them) . He was also the animal-lover who fed the neighborhood squirrels and cats. The green-thumb grandfather who grew bazillions of tomato plants in his teeny-tiny back yard. I used to love listening to him speak phrases to us in German (the one used most often, "That is enough!" when we kids were misbehaving!). Pop-Pop had more photos and albums of fish (he was an avid fisherman) and war (he served in the army) than he did of his own kids. If he wasn't belting out the tunes with his long fingers over the smooth piano keys, he was reciting long, creative poems he'd made up and memorized, and we'd giggle (my favorite was his Christmas poem which I wish I could find a copy of). Every time I see a tub of butter/margarine/oleo, I remember his margarine tub of pennies for nights spent playing cards. Then there was the look of pure contentment on his face as he listened to classical music (the ONLY music he listened to) or the rapt attention during a Jeopardy game (I still think Pop-Pop or Dad should have been on that show!). And Pop-Pop really loved coffee. (That's definitely a Smith-trait that's been passed down to me. My grandfather and his son, my Dad, were BOTH avid coffee drinkers. I remember always smelling it and thinking how fabulous it smelled...but when I drank it? YUCK! It wasn't until after high school that I learned to love it!).

Anyway, it feels good to reminisce sometimes, doesn't it?

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