I can remember grandpa popping out his teeth and scaring my little sister, the hours and hours he spent teaching both of us cribbage and the fact that we always had a place to sit, right on his lap!! He taught me the joys of homemade salsa, the amazing taste of filet's in his garage brick oven and let us play house in his camper all summer long. We jumped of his front porch over the big bush and ran around the house because he told us that was a game?
There were Saturday cookouts with the garage smoker going and snapping turtles in big old barrels, yep they cooked them. We played on the old, but wonderful swing set, it had a climbing rope a swing which we would twist all up and sit in so it could spin out and an old teeter totter that probably should have busted every time we sat on it. They had apple trees and I swear a green apple off that tree was the best summer sour treat ever!!
I can't forget to mention the growth wall, they had EVERYONE on this wall and it was so fun to mark how tall you were!!! Of course I can't mention the growth wall and not mention the black ca clock and semi-truck cribbage board. My grandpa loved us, every Saturday night we would watch the Mandrel sisters and Dukes of Hazard while we sat in the carpet covered roller thingies...on Christmas we all had a stocking on the freezing door to the back room. Even my Aunt Kelly's dogs had a stocking. The back room had a pool table, but they didn't ever heat that room, so even the outside of the door was cold. I can remember playing Barbies and games and they even had miniature horses for our Barbies to ride.
Grandma always had candies for us and so many hugs, she would cry when we left and never quite understood why. I think now I totally get it, but it has probably taken this long for me to be able to step back and realize what she knew was going on, even then.
He passed away his morning and I am really torn about what to do. So instead of trying to figure it out, I decided to write on my blog and go from there. Thanks for listening...
Lloyd Scholl, rest in peace