Memories of Pop

I have such fond memories of my childhood. Especially, the ones spent outdoors at my Pop’s home. They lived in the country and had probably around ten (10) acres, much of it in the woods. I actually lived with them for more than a year. Most weekends and large chunks of the summer were spent with my grandparents. Miniature adventures were a regular part of my time spent in that delightful land. There was a real sense of enchantment and wonder in that place and time. It was a great place to be a kid. I often get very sentimental thinking about it now. There was so much to do, and none of it included television or the internet.

A good example of what a weekend would be like is as follows: my mom would drop me off at some place like Captain D’s and we’d eat supper there, afterwards we’d head to town and pick up a few groceries. Unfortunately, even in the 80s and 90s, the little cities and towns of central Virginia were rattled with crime and unpleasantness. The surrounding rural areas were so “country” that within a few miles beyond the city limits there might only be one or two stop lights. It was, and to this day, a very beautiful place.

There were always things to do at my Pop’s house. Orchards abounded, there were apple, peach, and pear trees, as well as, a pretty substantial garden where you could find all kinds of vegetables. He had various grape vines and berries, too! Funny enough, I remember eating most of the fruit without ever rinsing them off; I was delighted in plucking strawberries or blackberries right from the vine and eating them. Encountering a green or black snake was a fairly regular occurrence, and there was always the potential of finding a worm in your apple once you bit into it! These kinds of things are becoming less common as time goes on – a boy enjoying nature in modernity. I didn’t appreciate it then, but looking back I’m sure almost every meal I had was filled with food from his very own yard. I remember the peaches most fondly.

There were animals, too. Of course, he had an “outside-only” dog, who he’d let inside only when there was snow on the ground. Liz, and before that Ralf, were their names. They didn’t need electric collars or fences to keep them on his property. I actually remember seeing my Pop kill a chicken, and it did run around, “like a chicken with its head cutoff.” Another memory from the chicken coop was when I went in there to grab a few eggs and wouldn’t you know it there was a black snake curled up right in the bin I was trying to grab an egg from. You learn to be observant in a more rural environment, that’s for sure. There was always a big black snake hanging around the barn, too, maybe it was the same one.

My Pop was always burning something. Whether it was debris, brush, junk, or who knows what, there was often a fire. It was fun to “help” clear brush and chuck it into the fire. There was a real sense of accomplishment at the end of the day. Pop would usually wake me up probably around 6:45 AM and cook a full course breakfast. He’d often tell me to go wake Nan up, since it was already around 8:00 AM and surely she had slept enough! If I close my eyes long enough, I can imagine the wood fireplace burning and biscuits cooking in the oven. Now that I think about it, most of my meals were at that kitchen table and always home cooked. One thing my Pop always fixed was breakfast, and it was always good. Like you’re supposed to do, I spent most of my days outside in any given season, and I probably had little problem falling asleep before 10:00 PM.

Apparently, my Pop had horses most of his adult life. And, when I was about nine he got a couple fairly wild, unbroken ones. I remember there being horse stalls on the property, but no horses up until then. My mom had told me she had a horse when she was younger, so it made sense that the stalls were there. It was exciting getting those horses. Before too long, my Pop and Nan were off riding through the wooded trails close to their land. Afterwards, I started riding also. It didn’t take long for “Fred,” Pops horse, to buck me off. I fell off Nan’s horse as well. Both incidents reminded me of the power horses have and the discipline needed to effectively ride them. Of course, I lacked discipline and dedication, but I always respected horses and thought they were beautiful. I also learned a lesson: riding horses is fairly dangerous but that doesn’t mean it isn’t worth it.

By the time I was eight-years old, Pop put a .22 rifle in my hands and showed me how to shoot. There were guns visibly around the kitchen and other areas, but I learned never to take them out without permission. I learned to respect guns and that lesson still remains. My first dirt bike was given to me by my grandparents and I learned how to ride (without a helmet sometimes) on their property and around the surrounding countryside. Some of my best adventures were driving on dirt paths or making my own through the woods. I learned how to drive a riding lawnmower there, too. I went fishing for the first time on a local tributary and probably swam in a river before I swam in the ocean. My time at my Pop’s was filled with fun and excitement. I always wanted to go there, and I looked forward to the summers the most.

Reflecting on my Pop, what stands out now is that no one ever came over to “fix” anything. He didn’t contract out his duties and he was always creating something. Whether it was architectural plans for a new house, repairing landscaping equipment, maintaining his truck, or planting a new crop, Pop always had a project or two going on. His work ethic was on another level. He also was fun to be around though and was generally fairly positive about most things in life. I got the feeling, or even the deep down conviction, that there wasn’t anything that he couldn’t handle. I felt like he was always capable of solving any problem, and whenever I did something wrong I knew that he would be disappointed. But, I never felt like he was tyrannical or heavy handed. This is an important lesson to learn when you’re a little kid. The patriarch should be respected but also use his authority judiciously, which Pop always did. Now that its been a few years since he passed away, I hope he’s looking down on me and not shaking his head but nodding approvingly from time to time.

Our grandparents can act as symbols for what we should actually be. Take care to cherish the time you have with them, and try to remember what they accomplished in their lives. Most of the time they got it right, almost all of it that matters anyway. My Nan was a great women, filled with love and compassion, but she deserves her own tribute. If you’re lucky enough to have a grandparent or two in your life, stop reading this article and tell them you love them. Honor your grandparents by guarding what they taught you and being who you should become.  

No matter how tall your grandfather was, you have to do your own growing.

Irish proverb

-By JJ