Gee! Haw!

This week, I lost my last grandparent. It seems that I should be sad, but I'm not. Perhaps it will hit me later. But in reality, it seems that I lost my grandfather long ago, when my grandmother died. I defined my grandfather so much by his relationship with my grandmother, and so did he. I was 13 when she died, and we've been saying a long, slow, painful goodbye ever since. The last couple of years, there was no hint left of the man I remember. It should never be like that for anyone.

My grandfather was born in 1908. When he was a serious little boy, his father bought a brand new Model T Ford. My great grandfather was a farmer, and he worked all day every day with mules. Mules pulled the plows and did most of the heavy farm labor. On Sunday mornings, they'd ride into town to church in horse drawn wagon. Can you imagine? My grandfather remembers with fondness hitching a ride on my grandmother's family wagon. They were such a big family - 2 parents and 6 kids - that their wagon had several benches, like pews.

Anyway, on this particular day, Young Grandpa was out taking a ride in the Model T with his dad. They came to a bend in the road.

"Haw! Haw!" called my great-grandfather.

The car went straight - off the road and into the ditch.

"You'd better drive this thing on home," my great-grandfather said to his very young son. And he never drove that car again.

My grandfather, on the other hand, had many, many funny driving stories. Sometime I'll tell you the one about my grandmother, the dip in the road, and the cigar.