My grandpa enjoyed fishing with us whippersnapper grandsons. We often went catfishing at local lakes and ponds. On one occasion with my brother along, they settled into a comfortable spot with a picnic table. After putting a couple lines out, Grandpa decided he wanted a cup of coffee. He had no thermos with him, but there was a bait shop about a quarter mile down the gravel road so he decided to stroll down there for his coffee.
After his journey there and back, Grandpa took the lid off his still full cup of coffee, the steam rose from the hot beverage in the cool morning air, and he set it down on the picnic table. He asked my brother if his poles had any bites and sat down to a enjoy his coffee. At this precise moment, nature intervened. A songbird on a tree branch took flight for another perch. As it flew over, the little bombadier scored a direct hit into Grandpa's fresh full cup of coffee.
And then it happened...Grandpa looked up...looked at his coffee...assessed the sad situation...and said, "Awww, flitter." Then he calmly stood up and headed back to the bait shop for a fresh cup of coffee. That's as close as Grandpa ever came to uttering any profanity.
He died when I was 11. So many people came by our house during that sad time. I remember one particular statement a friend said about Grandpa: "I never heard him say a bad word about anyone." I sure would have liked more time with him, but he sure taught me a lot in those too brief 11 years. He and Grandma lived with us most of that time, and his death was a sudden blow for the family. To this day though, I still hold dear these memories...and whenever something doesn't go my way, I still employ Grandpa's "F" bomb.
"Awww, flitter."
After his journey there and back, Grandpa took the lid off his still full cup of coffee, the steam rose from the hot beverage in the cool morning air, and he set it down on the picnic table. He asked my brother if his poles had any bites and sat down to a enjoy his coffee. At this precise moment, nature intervened. A songbird on a tree branch took flight for another perch. As it flew over, the little bombadier scored a direct hit into Grandpa's fresh full cup of coffee.
And then it happened...Grandpa looked up...looked at his coffee...assessed the sad situation...and said, "Awww, flitter." Then he calmly stood up and headed back to the bait shop for a fresh cup of coffee. That's as close as Grandpa ever came to uttering any profanity.
He died when I was 11. So many people came by our house during that sad time. I remember one particular statement a friend said about Grandpa: "I never heard him say a bad word about anyone." I sure would have liked more time with him, but he sure taught me a lot in those too brief 11 years. He and Grandma lived with us most of that time, and his death was a sudden blow for the family. To this day though, I still hold dear these memories...and whenever something doesn't go my way, I still employ Grandpa's "F" bomb.
"Awww, flitter."