Posts Tagged ‘Grandma’

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Over The River…

December 11, 2009

I grew up a very lucky boy-luckier than I ever knew.  First, I had two of the best Grandmas in the wide world.  They were caring and kind and in their own way each second mothers.  Second, I was one of the few little guys who not only had the chance to grow up with all their grandparents alive, but we also all lived in the same city.

This meant lots of one on one Grandma time.  It was definitely something I loved, but it was also something I just assumed everyone experienced.

My memory is flooded with images of games we played, stories they told, and a bevy of experiences.

Me & My Grandma Hall

I can still see my Grandma Hall in the back yard peeling apples as she watched us play and every so often yelling out, “Apple peels for sale! Apple peels for sale!”  She loved kids.  When the whole extended family got together Grandpa stayed upstairs with the adults, while Grandma headed into the basement with the kids.  She spent hours teaching us how to be good people and about what was right and wrong for good kids to do.  She had a passion for family, and an addiction to Lawrence Welk (OK maybe not an addiction, but when you are a kid, a little of that goes a long way.) She was always up for a walk to “Chow Now “ for swirl cones, and never forgot to bring apples and carrots for the horses we would pass on the way.  She’d take us to “The Fun Spot” (a TINY little amusement park in Boise) and every Disney movie from “Snow White” to “The Fox and He Hound” at the Vista Theaters. She loved everybody—whether you knew it or not Florence Hall loved you (Florence—she even had the perfect Grandma name.)

"Grams" visiting me after my car accident

Grandma Ashby, or “Grams” (pronounced “grah-mz”) was just as good.  She worked at a bakery.  Not like a corner market bakery, it was like a plant.  Every time we went there she took us in the back to show us off to her co-workers.  I loved it—watching all those huge machines make thousands of loaves of bread, and the bread itself on giant conveyer belts that snaked all over the place from the ground to the ceiling.  The tour always ended with some treat of our choosing—she could make you feel like a king.  Her house always felt like home too.  Whether it was playing pool, walking to “Winstead Park,” drinking all the Shasta we wanted or playing cards, you always felt good when Grams was around.

These two women have shaped my life in more ways than I can count.  Regardless of the fact that Grandma Hall died when I was just eight, and Grams passed away just a few years ago, they have been there through the good and the bad, to help me find my way.

Last Wednesday, Kolette left for the Dominican Republic to visit her folks for a short week. Coleman and I stayed behind, so that meant Cole was going to be staying at Grandma Hall’s.  I decided to join them and took my work up to Park City every day.

Coleman with Grandma Hall

What I saw was nothing short of magical.  With that much one on one time the two were putting their own little relationship together.  Watching them made me think of Kolette’s mom “Grandma Judy.”  Coleman’s spent many a night there and those two have their own special bond.

Cole with Grandma Judy

It was like looking in a mirror. They both do now all the things I’m sure my Grandmas did for me at that age.  I watch as they teach him how to do new tricks and what things are good and what things aren’t.

More than anything, it made me excited—excited to see the little things that end up to be their special traditions.

What I do know is this.  Cole, like me, is luckier than most to have two Grandmas close (most of the time) who love him like their own.

I know like me, that as Coleman grows up, he is going to look for every chance to go “Over the river, and through the woods”

Jh-

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