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Herb’s Blog, Herbdate 22252 – 776:
Here’s the haps:
As I have been thinking about this memoir project and trying to decide what to include and what not to include I have been having to bring up some memories from a very long time ago. Sometimes retrospection is a good thing. As a boy, we never, ever dared call adults by their first name. It was always Mister or Misses or, in the case of some of my parent’s closer friends, we called them Uncle or Aunt. If they were quite a bit older and very close to the family it might even be Grandma or Grandpa. In my younger years, I was only vaguely aware of the difference between blood relationships and family and close friends who could be better than family. This has served me well in life because I now have a whole bunch of very different people who are “members” of my close family. In the church, for the most part, we call each other brother or sister. I think it shows respect to use some sort of honorific.
Grandpa was getting up there in years. Nobody knew exactly how old he was, even himself. He was always doing something or puttering around and liked having visitors. He lived in a little two-room shack at the end of a dirt road. A big old black dog was lying curled up by the wood-burning stove and barely noticed you were there. If you showed up early in the morning Grandpa would fry you up a few fresh eggs and some bacon. “Grab a couple of plates for us!” “Are these plates clean?” “Oh, they’re as clean as cold water can get them.” And then he’d send you out to get a breath of fresh air while he tidied up. Oh, sure, you could offer to help; insist on helping, but to no avail. Then when he came out he’d show you whatever his newest little project was and you would talk until lunch.
His few dishes and things were stacked on one end of the table. “Are these dishes clean?” Shocked, he’d say, “What? Why they’re as clean as cold water can make them!” After lunch the routine was similar. It was a really idyllic setting and you just felt relaxed and peaceful. Nothing ever changed, really. No jangling of phones or blaring of TV. Not even a radio. The big old dog that never seemed to move very much. He did without a lot, but he liked his life and anyone that had ever spent any time with him loved him.
There was just something about those dishes, though. “They’re as clean as cold water can get them.” After the evening meal, it got to be time to go. As you said goodbye and your hand touched the doorknob the dog instantly sprang to life and jumped in front of the door looking very large and not just a little terrifying. “Oh, don’t mind him. He doesn’t ever like for anyone to leave. Come here, Cold Water!”
Remember, intelligence is like underwear. It’s important that you have it but you don’t have to show it off.
Comments
20 responses to “I Just Really Love Cold Water”
Oh my and Giavanna is busting up laughing.
She is intelligent.
clever 🙂
Thanks!
That’s brilliant 🙂
Thank you!
lol. me too.
In hindsight I should have seen that coming.
lol!
Just what I needed. Lol. Humor is always welcome, especially now. Thank you!
You’re welcome. We do have hot and cold running water here, though.
😂😂
Herb, is the story about Grandpa and cold water yours? Is it true? I loved it – whether it’s true or not!
Lol. It’s based on a joke that is older than me but I fluffed it up a bit.
“intelligence is like underwear. It’s important that you have it but you don’t have to show it off.” What an analogy, great!
Thank you and thanks for stopping by.
You are welcome Herb! Blessings!
Love the story. I knew old folks like this. They were my mother’s relations and they lived in PA at the other end of the lane/
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I know folks like this too. My grandparents had a well and a hot water heater but other than that…Well, let’s just say that a hundred yard dash in Wisconsin winter to the outdoor facilities is a learning experience.
Yea my Mom grew up in a house with 4 rooms and a path