We're very fortunate that we were able to purchase and remodel my maternal grandparent's farmhouse, aside from a very big construction undertaking-it was nice to ensure that the house that held so many memories for so many people was going to be 'taken care of'.
I spent a large portion of my childhood at my grandparents house, they were our next door neighbor and Grandma was my designated babysitter-my great aunt Cile will attest to the fact that I was almost always at my grandparent's side. I was always guaranteed Twinkies, candy, cookies, and best of all Mt. Dew. I was one of those kids who became very naughty after a can of Dew (or a combination of all of the above)-so my mom just loved picking me up!
I have fond memories of mowing their lawn, hitting the volleyball off the grainery roof, tennis in the barn yard, playing catch with Grandpa, and swinging on the old Ash tree. Other not so fond memories of being stalked by the million barn swallows in the yard-aside from being aggressive "those birds don't hurt anything" Grandpa would say.
I was the youngest of 14 grandchildren, and my grandma would often say that he treated me special. He'd take me down to Brenner's on his bowling league night, take me to the softball games at Taylor park, and many nights I was forced to watch Lawrence Welk for entertainment. He was a farmer, and then he also became a milk hauler-his milk truck was his pride and joy.
Grandpa became ill when I was about 13 years old, I was too young to understand lung cancer and what it meant. But he eventually came home, and hospice became routine for a few months-and then he quietly passed away one night.
After my grandfather passed away, my dad did much of the yard maintenance (minus the lawnmowing-grandma loved mowing). He managed to trim just about everything in the yard; one of Grandpa's prized possessions were the bridal wreaths in the front of the house-I estimate them to be at least 50 years old because there are childhood photos of my mom w/ them in the background as tiny little spindly shrubs. Dad transformed them into boxy, flat looking things that never flowered; when we bought the place it was one of the things I vowed to try and restore back into the way Grandpa would have wanted them-big, bushy, and just like fountains of white on Memorial Day weekend. There are lots of things like that around the house-grandma's peonies, a clematis we transplanted and saved from construction-and now it's waiting for a permanent home, the flowering crab trees, and even a few of those damn barn swallows are among the many things that are still present yet bring back instant memories from 20 years ago.
When I was younger I had framed a poem called "Family Ties" and given it to my grandparents as a gift. It hung on the east living room wall-exactly where it hangs today. Only I have a photo of me and my grandpa, and his old milking hat draped on the corner of it. The other day Alex was walking around w/ the trimmers and he headed for the bridal wreaths, I told him how important it was to leave them the way I have them otherwise Grandpa White would be mad-he turned and looked at me and said, "oh, that Grandpa who left his hat at our house?", I said yep-that's the guy with a big smile on my face.
I spent a large portion of my childhood at my grandparents house, they were our next door neighbor and Grandma was my designated babysitter-my great aunt Cile will attest to the fact that I was almost always at my grandparent's side. I was always guaranteed Twinkies, candy, cookies, and best of all Mt. Dew. I was one of those kids who became very naughty after a can of Dew (or a combination of all of the above)-so my mom just loved picking me up!
I have fond memories of mowing their lawn, hitting the volleyball off the grainery roof, tennis in the barn yard, playing catch with Grandpa, and swinging on the old Ash tree. Other not so fond memories of being stalked by the million barn swallows in the yard-aside from being aggressive "those birds don't hurt anything" Grandpa would say.
I was the youngest of 14 grandchildren, and my grandma would often say that he treated me special. He'd take me down to Brenner's on his bowling league night, take me to the softball games at Taylor park, and many nights I was forced to watch Lawrence Welk for entertainment. He was a farmer, and then he also became a milk hauler-his milk truck was his pride and joy.
Grandpa became ill when I was about 13 years old, I was too young to understand lung cancer and what it meant. But he eventually came home, and hospice became routine for a few months-and then he quietly passed away one night.
After my grandfather passed away, my dad did much of the yard maintenance (minus the lawnmowing-grandma loved mowing). He managed to trim just about everything in the yard; one of Grandpa's prized possessions were the bridal wreaths in the front of the house-I estimate them to be at least 50 years old because there are childhood photos of my mom w/ them in the background as tiny little spindly shrubs. Dad transformed them into boxy, flat looking things that never flowered; when we bought the place it was one of the things I vowed to try and restore back into the way Grandpa would have wanted them-big, bushy, and just like fountains of white on Memorial Day weekend. There are lots of things like that around the house-grandma's peonies, a clematis we transplanted and saved from construction-and now it's waiting for a permanent home, the flowering crab trees, and even a few of those damn barn swallows are among the many things that are still present yet bring back instant memories from 20 years ago.
When I was younger I had framed a poem called "Family Ties" and given it to my grandparents as a gift. It hung on the east living room wall-exactly where it hangs today. Only I have a photo of me and my grandpa, and his old milking hat draped on the corner of it. The other day Alex was walking around w/ the trimmers and he headed for the bridal wreaths, I told him how important it was to leave them the way I have them otherwise Grandpa White would be mad-he turned and looked at me and said, "oh, that Grandpa who left his hat at our house?", I said yep-that's the guy with a big smile on my face.
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