My Grandpa was a great story teller and story maker. I have so many thoughts and memories but a few are particularly funny to me…
At the funeral, the preacher told a story about the time he and my Grandpa were preparing for a meeting at the church. A bat flew from the belfry and into the meeting area. Both men grabbed brooms to swat the bat from the air. One of them finally got it and the preacher was about to set the bat under-foot. Grandpa told the preacher to wait a second as he went to gather a pair of gloves. His plan was to set the bat free outside rather than mash an innocent creature. He held the bat up and showed the preacher his big wings and cute little face. The preacher only wanted him gone so Grandpa took him out and returned a few minutes later. When the preacher asked Grandpa what he had done, he replied that he had released the bat…down the street in front of the Presbyterian church!
Another time, there was a neighbor how had a rooster that crowed every morning (and all day too as roosters tend to do) and drove everyone mad. When that neighbor moved, everyone was delighted with the possibility that they may be able to sleep in a bit. Unbeknownst to the remaining neighbors, Grandpa had recorded the rooster and had a speaker set up within a few days. He resumed the morning serenade for awhile to the delight of…only him!
My Grandpa always had a garden in which he spent a great deal of time. Groundhogs invaded one year so Grandpa strung a live 120v line around the perimeter and electrocuted a groundhog or two. Thinking he had cleared the area of the offending beasts, he declared himself the victor. Paying back for the rooster, the neighbors stuffed a groundhog and placed him in the middle of the garden. Grandpa retrieved his .22 rifle and shot the groundhog thinking he would solve the problem once and for all. The groundhog statue remained strong for the next several shots. I think Grandpa probably had his shooting confidence shaken with that episode. He finally figured it out and no doubt, payed everyone back.
One of the best stories is how he tamed a chipmunk…told here.
There are tons more stories but I think one of my favorite lines relates to that time in life when my brother and I were learning to cuss. Thinking that we would show-off or try to impress Grandpa, he shared our new-found vocabulary. He calmly replied that he was impressed but that those were garage words and could only be used there. That wasn’t quite the reaction we were expecting I am sure but it put us in our places!
It’s hard to summarize all of the funny stories in a meaningful way and you may not be as amused by them as I am. Maybe it would help to drink a cup of Sanka before reading. Grandpa drank Sanka every day and I am sure it ran through his veins. Funny how even that word, Sanka, will always mean Grandpa to me.This entry was posted in Thoughts and tagged Sanka = Grandpa by warren