Remembering

When I was in kindergarden, we went to school for half-days. There were the AM'ers (that was me) and the PM'ers. So there I was, four or five years old with nothing to do every afternoon. I took the bus to the church near my grandma's house, even though it was a mere four blocks away, and had lunch with her and Grandpa. She always had lunch ready just as I arrived. All I had to do was wash my hands and sit down. I remember the washing hands part of the deal being a major inconvenience. Germs were like ghosts or a million dollars; if I couldn't see them, then they most not be real. Grandma would talk at Grandpa for the majority of the meal, occasionally prying a few word response from him, that is, until she touched on some political topic. Then Grandpa, meal forgotten, would lecture Grandma and me on the importance of this or that and how outrageous some policy is for the next fifteen minutes. Being in kindergarden, this was all a bunch of mumbo jumbo to me. Anyways, as if suddenly remembering his meal, Grandpa would clam up and finish eating, the mood at the table as if the whole thing never happened. He was just content to get his thoughts out there and let them dangle. When the meal was finished, or just about, Paul Harvey would come on to the radio with "The Rest of the Story." God, I loved listening to him. He had a certain way with words and pronunciation that made that my favorite time of the day.


This is one of my most treasured memories of time with my grandpa. Perhaps it is my most treasured because it is one that my brother and sister never experienced. Whatever the reason, I almost started crying when I heard Paul Harvey's voice come on during the Super Bowl commercials. Hearing his voice brought the memory rushing back with such force. I've probably watched that commercial on Youtube a dozen times since last night, reliving that memory.