It's the Little Things: "What Makes a Puddle?"

Alternately titled: "Remembering a grand guy!"

What Makes a Puddle?
by Barbara Brandt
~
Phillip always wondered things; he always wondered why
The sky was blue, the grass was green, and how the birds might fly.
His favorite time was Sunday, after lunch with Grampa Joe;
They'd take a walk for exercise and talk an hour or so.
~
Phil took big steps to match Gramp's steps and listened to him hum.
Together they would whittle sticks while chewing juicy gum.
They'd often find a place to rest, a log or rock or hill,
And ponder things of interest, especially to Phil.
~
"Questions, questions all the time," Grampa'd always say.
"Just let 'em fly...I'm ready...What'cha need to know today?"
I'm puzzled 'bout the puddles...some are wide and some are small.
Sometimes they're here and then they're gone. What happens to them all?"
~
"You want to know what makes a puddle?" Grampa said, "No doubt...
It's when it rains...the waters pool...with no place to run out."
Then Phillip asked, "How does the rain know where to stop and rest?"
"It looks for holes and cracks and things, to settle in, I guess."
~
"I understand," said Phillip, "just why the puddles stay.
But answer for me Grampa...what makes a puddle go away?"
"That's why we have the sun, my boy, to warm and dry the ground.
And the wind is mighty helpful as it blows the wet around."
~
Then Gramp took his big rough hand and held it out to Phil.
And said, "It's time to get along...here take this, if you will."
He handed Phil his pocket watch...he trusted him you see...
He said, "My boy, here's somethin' for your curiosity."
~
The whole next week Phil kept the watch, to think about and question,
Til Sunday, when the walk again was Grampa Joe's suggestion.
"Still got my watch?" asked Grampa Joe, before he carved his sticks.
"Yes sir," said Phillip wondering, "now please tell me why it ticks."

*************************

Today is the 8th anniversary of my grandfathers death. He was the only grandfather I knew, as my dads father died when my dad was young. He was a wonderful grandfather. Growing up I recall being 'Grandpa's girl.' I don't know if that is a memory, or thought that I have implanted into my brain that may not necessarily be true. I hope that the former was the case. I seem to recall (correct me if I am wrong, Mom and Dad) that when I was born Grandpa was in the hospital and only had to come up a floor or two to see me. Maybe our souls felt a special connection because of that?!

I have many fond memories of Grandpa. My grandparents house was just down the street...by one door. One home separating our house from theirs. We were often at their home and they were often at our home. When my mom was out of town we stayed with them. I recall one night having a nightmare...I was probably 6, maybe 7. Grandpa got up and sat with me in the night.

When I started school at the local elementary school, a matter of blocks from my home (we could see the playground from the front picture window) I would walk down to Grandpa's in the morning when my mom was taking Josh to the sitters. Grandpa would sit with me in the front room if their house, it was pink...the room, like Pepto Bismal pink, with a blue floraly couch and there were stripped purple curtains. WOW. It had been my aunt's room and she liked pink, apparently. We'd sit on the couch and read books in the morning. I would watch Grandpa give himself his insulin shots...I was fascinated...looking back I have no idea why. Grandpa and I had a certain route we'd walk. Down the street, past where we should turn to go to the school so we could walk by a house that had a dog in the yard that I liked seeing. Then we'd turn. I don't recall how many years we did this, probably not for long, as Josh was only 2 years behind me in school and I don't recall this morning tradition with him included. I do remember that as time passed and I grew older Grandpa would stop at a certain time and watch me walk the rest of the way to school by myself. The place he stopped got closer and closer to his house and further from the school. A guiding presence, but not over-bearing. He knew all little kids grew up and maybe this was his way of encouraging me, but still being there. He would wait in a spot I could see him until I got all the way to school. I would turn and wave. I don't know if he would turn and walk home right away, or if he'd stand there for a bit to 'make sure'. Either way I loved that he took that time. I don't recall him ever picking me up after school...any light to shed on that, Mom?

We traveled with him. He was hugely patriotic and designed/built/operated a unit called the "Avenue of Flags" and we traveled the state with it, would help set it up, or watch when we were too young, and then we'd walk in the parades alongside it. I remember the old pick-up that pulled the trailor and the many early in the morning trips we'd take. When my brother and I were in swimming lessons and saw Grandpa before we left he'd ALWAYS, without fail, say to us, "don't get wet!" We'd always shake our heads and say "Oh, Grandpa!"

He'd make homemade peach ice cream, he did all the cooking and at times we thought he put everything from the refridgerator into the pot. He loved animals, walking, spending time with family, telling stories about where he was born, his life on the ship in WWII. He loved reading the newspaper daily, reading Readers' Digest condensed books. He loved Christmas tree lights and always had the chasing/blinking lights on. He would drive for hours to a little town for a ham sandwich and on the return trip would stop at another little town for a malt.

He had a wonderful last day. At the beginning of that day we had no idea it was his last. He was in the hospital, but the doc had said anywhere from 1-4 weeks before he was gone. I think he planned his time, willed himself to go. He saw or talked to all those that were close to him that day. I was home for the winter break from college, my brother (who doesn't do sick people or hospitals) had come to visit, my Mom was there, my aunt and grandma were there, family friends had visited, and my uncle had talked to him on the phone. I think Grandpa was at peace, he said a prayer with us surrounding his bed. He had a miniature Christmas tree with lights and had a chocolate malt that he sucked down. Mom and I had gone home for the night after about a 14 hour day at the hospital.

Shortly my aunt called and said he'd died. Back to the hospital we went. Many people have a hard time seeing the dying, seeing death. I think seeing him was my first experience seeing a body. I will always remember the way he was that night. As hard as it was, it doesn't shade my memories of how he 'had been'...the reason, which I do respect, that many people use for not wanting to see those who are sick. My family and I have shared lots of memories since then and I felt the need to record some of them here so I can read them whenever I like. I am blessed that I had this wonderful guy in my life for so long, though I'd give anything to have had him longer.