people i love: gramps.

I've been staring at this screen for a while now, because this is a tough one. Gramps' birthday is still over a month away, but today is the day for his post. Right now, he is in the ICU, and things aren't looking great. 

I didn't know my grandpa as a young man, or as a father, so I can't sum up his whole life or try to make it into a seamless, heroic narrative. I just know him as Grandpa. And to be honest, I was scared, like really scared of him when I was little (of course, my brother convincing me that alligators lived in Grandpa's water bed didn't help). He had this stern, serious voice that kept me at least 5 feet away from his fuzzy pink chair at all times. I also remember spending the night at my grandparents house and nearly being knocked out of bed by the volume of his snoring. But, it turns out I was actually scared of everybody except my own family at that point (I refused to kiss my uncles on the cheek, didn't smile for yearly portraits, etc.), and it turns out that Gramps isn't scary at all. 

Gramps is the one who sang along to "Battle Hymn of the Republic" at my brother's high school graduation, nudging my arm the whole time like a little schoolboy (he was the only one singing, just to give you a better picture). And the summer I packed cherries, Gramps was always up for indulging my inner-eighty-year-old with an episode of Andy Griffith or Lawrence Welk. He also taught me how to pump my own gas that summer, which took three hands-on lessons (what can I say, I'm a slow learner when it comes to driving-related activities). And, perhaps, most importantly, he's 50% responsible (genetically speaking) for a little thing we like to call the Turkey Bowl. For that, we'll all be forever grateful, and when we (the cousins) bring home the trophy this November, it'll be for you, Grandpa. 

I love you, Gramps.

xoxo