![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
susandennis
My Mom's Dad was the nicest man. Not the most dynamic. Not the most successful. But nice and loving and my Grandpa. He was born and raised in Dallas, Texas in a German community. He did not learn English until he went to school. His name was Fritz. Somewhere along the way he moved to Oklahoma City where he spent the rest of his life. He was a clerk in a printing company. He worked for The Man whom he revered. He went to work every day in a car pool which fascinated me. He lost his only son in World War II on the battlefield in France.
He had horrible eyesight and horrible headaches all the days of his life but he still managed to be my wonderful Grandpa. He had the greatest smell. It was part Campho-Phenique (which my Grandma firmly believed could cure anything) and part cigar and mostly Grandpa.
He built a rollar coaster for us in his back yard. And he taught me to love baseball.
He thought green cars were bad luck and only bought blue ones. On Sundays, after church, we'd go to Classen's Cafeteria for lunch. The Classens were members of their church. This was a big deal because we did not have cafeterias in North Carolina. To be able to see all the food and pick what you wanted? What a great idea! They had fabulous fried chicken and beautiful jello in a million different colors. Grandpa always always always left his hat there. Every Single Sunday.
When he retired, he and Grandma moved into one of the country's first continuous care places. It was a pre-cursor to the kind of place that Mom and Dad moved to. It was church affiliated and they ended up living there for 25 years. They (Grandma and Grandpa) lived in a little cottage in the back. When Grandma got too frail to clean and Grandpa got too blind to see the dirt, they moved into the nursing wing. They each had a room and their rooms were connected by a bathroom. It was really quite a perfect arrangement.
The place had a hair salon and Grandma used to go every week. Grandpa went too. He was the only man allowed in there. He was blind as a bat but he'd sit there and much on their donuts and tell all the old ladies how wonderful their hair looked.
He started losing it before Grandma died. He would wake her up in the middle of the night all frantic that she must call the police right away because someone had stolen his pants. Finally they had to move him into the constant care section. He spent the last 6 years of his life as a broccoli. A very well cared for broccoli but still he knew nothing. He finally died when I was in my mid-30s and he was 91 or 92. He did not have high blood pressure.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-08-04 10:06 pm (UTC)And I loved those photos..your grandma's house looks a bit like mine. Plenty for children to do and I adore your red shoes :-)
(no subject)
Date: 2006-08-04 10:16 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-08-04 10:26 pm (UTC)I shall look forward to it.
My Grandma had a Hans Christian Anderson fairy tale book and a box of dominoes for us to play with. I vowed to have a little bit more for my grandchildren
And great news about yout BP. I still can't get over the Fire Station doing it!
I did mine on one of those machines on a motorway cafe a few years back, it seemed ok then. I'll have to do it again soon though
(no subject)
Date: 2006-08-05 02:04 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-08-05 02:36 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-08-05 02:34 pm (UTC)