Gramp’s
As told to: Michael d. Carroll
By: R. “Bucket” Monday
This is Bucket’s story. He told me this story, in parts, over several fishing trips.
He says there is more truth to this story than “story”. Having lived and worked in the Hill Country of Texas myself, I can easily close my eyes and smell the mesquite wood bar-b-q’s slow cooking brisket, chicken and turkey’s.
He has requested the second chapter be the preview as he says, “Not enough “angel kisses” in this world. I hope I get it right.
The Fish that Shannon threw Back
Thanksgiving had come in all of its expectations and traditions. The “housey” decorations in old traditional styles with Indian corn, late fall flowers and dried wreaths hung from doors and in appropriate places throughout the inside of the homes around Kerrville, Texas.
A great deal was eaten by all and even those that did not have much throughout the year somehow managed to find cheerfulness and turkey with it’s many assorted, wondrous and flavorful additions to grace the tables of family that were gathered from near and far to start what was to almost everyone, the beginning winters holiday season.
Thanksgiving had brought all the women folk of the Carson family together in the wonderful harmony that only a holiday kitchen can do with six, or so, women who hadn’t seen each other for “The good Lord only knows how long?” Shared recipe secrets, “sage” advice about what to add here for turkey stuffing, what not to add to deviled eggs, and “Oh My! You aren’t getting so and so, such and such again this year, are you?” was heard more than once.
While all this was going on in the hallowed halls of the kitchen, the men folk were busy in the TV room expertly telling the coaches what to do during the next series of downs. The Dallas Cowboys lost again, this time to the Miami Dolphins and Texas A & M came from behind to beat their traditional rivals, the Texas Longhorns.
Yes, Thanksgiving was a good time around Kerrville, Texas this year, for everyone except Ian’s older sister, Shannon.
Even though it was the morning after Thanksgiving, Shannon still had not slept a wink all night.
Nor the night before. Nor the night before that.
It wasn’t so much a part of the entire family coming to visit and the excitement of a holiday although, Shannon was very happy to see everyone and Thanksgiving did indeed put a warm spot in her thirteen year old heart, Shannon hadn’t slept for the reason of,,, Shannon had not the slightest clue as to why she hadn’t been sleeping as of late.
“Why doesn’t someone put that dog out? Just listen to him moan and whine and carry on?” Shannon thought out loud as she tiredly crawled from under the floral comforter, slipped her light pink toe nailed polished feet into the canary yellow clothe slippers and headed very quickly for the pale blue robe hanging from the hook on her bathroom door. Even with the heat on medium, it was quite cool in her room this morning because a sudden cold front had blown through early this day after Thanksgiving.
Everyone had gone to sleep early Thanksgiving night, mostly because of the over eating and excitement of visiting family.
“So!” Shannon wondered aloud again, “Why can’t everyone else let me sleep when I am so tired? Everyone else must be awake and just laying in bed listening to Mozart howl to be let out.”
As Shannon opened the door, in her tired and irritable state, she opened the big, heavy, wooden bedroom door directly, square-on-center, perfect beeline, couldn’t have been better done if tried to be better done, square into her forehead.
“Dang! How rude!”
Mozart, the two year old part Labrador retriever, part chow, was to say the least, happy to see anyone, especially Shannon that urgent filled morning. After all, Mozart was Carson family and all Carson family would over eat Thanksgiving.
It seemed to most that Mozart liked Shannon best with Ian a close second, only because he was usually the one to feed her. Mozart was quite fond of Gramp’s, what with being his company for long walks through the mesquite brush and all.
But, for pure friendship, Mozart was prone to wait for Shannon to walk by before she really got excited. Lately, Shannon hadn’t been showing Mozart as much attention as a “best friend” was prone to care for.
Getting Mozart outside for her “daily” was a bit more than good old fashioned frustrating for Shannon. Not only tired, mad would fill the bill fully at how she felt at a household of family for being rude enough to make this poor, tired girl get up and let the dog out.
Business done, Shannon stayed outside to throw an old, half-chewed stick as well as nuzzle some with, and for, Mozart. That is, until a stiff breeze wound it’s way through the folds of Shannon’s pale blue robe and reminded her, that except for the canary yellow slippers and pale blue robe, Shannon had on only her toasty pinkness underneath.
“North by northwest and I would say, near on to twenty, maybe twenty five.” Shannon said aloud to Mozart mocking the way she heard her Grandfather accurately call the wind a thousand times, or more.
Walking back to the house thinking of a cup of hot tea, and the warmth of the family kitchen that would be awaiting her, Shannon thought about her Grandfather. Wondering just how Grandma Lindi had put up with Gramp’s all these years; after all, all Gramp’s ever did was tell long, drawn out stories with morals that she never understood.
Poor little brother Ian, he thought the sun rose and the moon set in Gramp’s.
“Must be a guy thing?” she said aloud as she entered the kitchen.
“What’s a guy thing, Shannon?” the woman standing at the sink, while gingerly sipping piping hot coffee and looking out the window to nowhere in particular, said.
“Morning, Mama. Oh! Nothing. Well, maybe, seems to me, no, I can’t see why Ian couldn’t get up and let Mozart out.” Shannon headed for the teapot that was always on the wood stove in wintertime. Such was the tradition of cool weather in the Carson home.
Shannon’s mother, Diane, or Di to almost every one who knew her, except her husband who called her DeeDee, brushed back her long, thick brown, almost black hair and watched her daughter with the intense, but loving, gaze that only a mother could muster when she knew that something was troubling one of her off-spring.
“Darling, whatever in this world has been bothering you lately? Is it the change you have been going through? Is it BOY trouble? That worthless Jimmy Conners hasn’t been bothering you again, has he?” Diane put her coffee cup upon the rim of the sink and squared her shoulders back as if ready to fight the young Jimmy Conners herself.
“No Mama, Jimmy hasn’t bothered me since the fight.”
“Fight? You call giving a boy two black eyes, a dislocated shoulder and more bruises than Mozart has flees a fight?”
Diane looked at her daughter, having already fully budded into womanhood and struggling to catch up, emotionally.
“What then?”
“It’s definitely not boy trouble. Well, maybe it is,,, but it’s not. I don’t want to talk about it, besides, you wouldn’t understand.” Shannon didn’t realize that when she said these words, her delivery was akin to a stranger’s way of saying. Nor, at thirteen, did she realize that some words cut to the bone, mostly by lack of thinking, even when you didn’t mean to hurt some one you loved, but you did.
“Alright, young lady. If you can’t be civil in my house, especially when we have company, you can just march your alien self back to your room and don’t dare pop a single hair out the door until you return my loving, very well taught and mannered daughter.”
With those humorous, yet adult like scathing words ringing in Shannon’s still almost frost bit ears, Shannon turned her back on her mother, stormed off through the kitchen door that led into the main hallway of the house towards her “prison” and spat out, half in tears, half in tired frustration, “I don’t care if I ever come out of my room and I sure don’t care if I ever see you again.”
Several hours later, and after about four gallons of Shannon tears, Mama Di quietly knocked on Shannon’s door and said, “Your Grandmother is on the phone and she would like to talk to you.”
“When life calls you on the phone, I hope you have the ringer on.” - Gramp’s, 1962
The first thing Shannon always noticed when she walked into her Grandparents home was the smells. Shannon always seemed to zigzag through the living room and slow down in the small hallway that separated the living room from the dining room for it was in the hallway that the light flowery scent of the living room mingled with the scents of spices and cooking foods of the kitchen that always seemed to be active in Grandma Lindi’s kitchen of love.
Shannon seldom veered near Gramp’s easy chair because of the medicinal ointment rub smell that hung around the chair like the clouds over far off Ft. Smith Mountain. To think that Shannon was more along the lines of partial to her Grandmother than her Grandfather would not be missing the mark by much.
This thought was one of the few thoughts that Gramp’s never let into his mind, for, like Mozart the Labrador, Shannon was one of Gramp’s favorites that didn’t seem to have much time for him lately.
Traditional Texas music, with twin fiddles of course, waifed it’s way to Shannon’s ears as she stood in the kitchen’s doorway while she soaked up the aroma of the house of love. Her right ear perked up just a tad to the music coming from another part of the house meaning that Gramp’s was most likely home and living in the past as he was apt to do.
Quietly gliding through the kitchen, Shannon both hugged and surprised Grandma Lindi from behind.
“My Lord,,, child, what in the world is wrong with you? Giving an old woman a start like that. For all I know it could have been Whitey.”
After a proper hug with Shannon, Grandma Lindi moved to the sink to wash her hands and dry them off with the cotton hand cloth that had a red rose at the bottom right corner. When she returned the cotton hand cloth to it’s resting and drying place next to the cupboard door Grandma Lindi walked the few steps to the ancient, round topped refrigerator and retrieved a pitcher of fresh, cold, sweet tea. That task finished, Grandma Lindi selected two glasses with a green floral design from the drain board at the edge of the sink before sitting down across from Shannon at the kitchen table.
“Your mother gave me a call earlier. She was upset at the way you have been carrying on lately and frankly, my dear, she hasn’t a clue as to why you have been behaving in this manner.” Grandma Lindi poured out two glasses of sweet tea and continued, “I have a hunch at what your troubles may be but, honestly,,, won’t do me a bit of good to bend your ear if you don’t want to talk about it.”
Tears began to drip into Shannon’s sweet tea but, as the sweet tea touched her lips,,, the sun seemed to perk up in it’s shining through the kitchen window. The morning’s ration of tears faded and the howling breeze that had been a pester for three days somehow ran out of steam.
The day, that seemed at first to Shannon a complete loss, began to warm.
Shannon looked at her Grandmother helplessly for a moment and then blurted out:
“Men! I hate them! Just because Clint likes to fish all of the time doesn’t mean that I have to learn to kill worms by running hooks up their butts. All men are alike! They make no sense at all. I got all dressed up for the last day of school before Thanksgiving just so Clint would ask me to the dance tonight, and for what? He never paid me one moment of attention. Grandma Lindi, Clint didn’t even notice me. All men are as crazy as Gramp’s”
OOP’s!
Sun goes nova! Wind goes force 10! Dogs kiss cats and cows lay eggs!
Not good!
“Whack!”
It had been many a year since last, Grandma Lindi had slapped someone, and the sound easily carried to the back bedroom where Gramp’s was.
Gramp’s came scurrying around the corner of the kitchen and the first thing he noticed was his wife looking fit to fight. The second attention getter was Shannon’s surprised look and the palm sized red whelp growing in hue upon her cheek.
“Granddaughter, or no granddaughter, NO CHILD WILL SPEAK THAT WAY IN MY HOUSE!”
Gramp’s had heard everything from the back room and although his heart was way heavy, he knew in his soul that it was time to take his granddaughter for a walk, a talk and more than a bit of getting re-aquatinted.
To the love of his life, his beloved wife who had surprised everyone to include herself by slapping Shannon, Gramp’s said:
“Woman, I have loved you for going on fifty years, but,,, if you ever touch this girl again I promise you I will have a new dog out back by morning!”
As Gramp’s took Shannon’s hand and headed out of the kitchen, leaving Grandma Lindi at the kitchen table, no one, to include himself, was quite sure as to exactly what Gramp’s meant. It would seem that anytime Gramp’s needed to put his foot down with the woman he had loved for over a half of a century, Gramp’s mind directed his mouth to turn remarkably stupid.
Shannon’s smile blossomed for the first time this incredibly difficult day. She was quickly caught up in trying to figure out Gramp’s words, knowing only that, it sure felt good when he stuck up for her.
Shannon loved her Grandmother dearly. For that matter, Gramp’s too. She knew somehow, that Gramp’s rescued her from the moment she was about to loose “touch” completely. Memories of what seemed to be: the hundreds of times Gramp’s rescued her when she was little and always in some sort of brawl with half the boys in the neighborhood.
Shannon grew up thinking that Gramp’s was always rescuing the boys, but in fact, now that she was a “Woman”, Shannon knew the truth without being told.
The rubbing lotion aroma of her Grandfather caught her attention and Shannon turned crimson in the cheek remembering what she said about this man back in the kitchen.
The almost forgotten memories of a warm childhood faded away once more.
“Fish spit!” Gramp’s said as if mind reading came natural to him. “Use it for my ‘Rheumatism and on my best fish catching lures. That’s what you smell, fish spit.”
“Gramp’s, with all of my heart, I am so sorry I said what I said when I didn’t mean to say anything mean at all.” Shannon stuck her tongue out and looked at it cross-eyed trying to figure out just what she said.
“Hasn’t been the best day of your life, angel kisses?”
Shannon squeezed Gramp’s hand and as they walked, her tongue back in her mouth, she would not let go of her last link to happiness.
“Child, you are right! I am crazy. Why, I have been crazy in love with your Grandmother for over fifty years and for thirteen of those fifty, I’ve made a pretty fair sized room in my heart for you, even if you don’t open that door near as much as you used to.”
Gramp’s then pulled two rum soaked, black as tar pitch cigars from his vest pocket and with hands quicker than hummingbird wings, popped one in Shannon’s mouth and one in his.
“Gramp’s,” Shannon mumbled with the start of rum soaked, black as tar pitch slobber juice dripping from the corner of her mouth, “These things will give you cancer.”
“Gotta’ light them first.” And with that, Gramp’s pulled a pack of matches from his vest pocket and tossed them onto the top of a trashcan between the sidewalk and street.
As they continued to walk, both smiling at what each other looked like with a rum soaked, black as tar pitch cigar dangling from their lips, Gramp’s went on:
“The yellow one, the dress that comes off your shoulder, wear it with a bright violet corsage and don’t forget that little purse your Grandmother made for your Mother’s graduation years ago. Set that dress off right pretty, it would. Oh, yes. Wear your hair up high so that young man that has you so frazzled lately can see all of your “angel kisses”, not that I think he has done anything special to warrant an up-close look at all.
Woman child, you will be the most dazzling item at a Kerrville school dance since the time “Kooky” Ken McPorter drove his date, Kitty Anne, up to the high school steps on a brand new John Deere “Big Boy” back in ’52.”
“Gee,, thanks Gramp’s. I think?”
But Shannon knew what it was that her Grandfather was trying to say: All the boys would stay boys until they quite their boyish ways.
As the pair of newly reacquainted friends walked past Mr. Crowder’s filling station Gramp’s looked at Shannon and began.
“Ever tell you the story about,,,”
“Gramp’s, if you don’t mind, please don’t tell me another of your stories that goes on and on and I won’t understand anyway. I have to learn about fishing or Clint will never pay attention to me.”
OOP’s, again. For what seemed like the up-teenth time that day, Shannon regretted opening her 13-year-old lips.
Gramp’s didn’t miss a step, as once more, this sweet flower in the garden of life pricked him with un-intentional, yet, naïve thorns.
“Two licks & a sit. Remember ol’ Jasper Boy, the hound every one thought was a boy until one day, your brother looked real good and found out that Jasper wasn’t a Jasper boy, but a Jasper girl and it was too late to rename him, I mean her, because the only name Jasper Boy would answer to was Jasper Boy? Seems that you have the same problem. That boy, Clint, that’s his name? Seems Clint hasn’t looked close enough to see what a fine woman you are turning out to be.”
“Great!” Shannon replied with a mocking, long face, “Now I’m a hound dog! Fleas too, I suppose?”
“Don’t worry, youngin’. A Saturday night bath, needin’ one or not, will take care of those fleas.”
Smiles returned. Gramp’s continued.
“Jasper Boy, not long after folks found out that he was a she, became known as “two licks & a sit” because when you went to pet her she would give you two licks and then sit. Couldn’t get her to budge no matter what you tried that is, until you walked away and left her alone.
Had a horse once, like that. First, that crazy old mare would trot off like the dickens out to the end of the far fence up on the north forty and no matter what you would do that mare wouldn’t slow down or turn around until she reached that far corner of the fence.”
“Gramp’s, just for the sake of argument, what does a dumb old horse and a hound dog have to do with fishing?” Shannon asked, this time a bit more respectful to Gramp’s feelings when she spoke.
“Ever dawn on you young lady, that if a dog won’t mind and a horse won’t co-operate, might as well forget them and go fishing?”
Shannon’s mother pulled up next to the pair before Shannon could reply or Gramp’s could finish his story. Time to do hair, etc. for the dance and Gramp’s assured Shannon it would be alright as he needed “this or that” from Mr. Lincoln’s hardware just up the street and he would like to walk and take advantage of such a fine afternoon.
Towards the days end, and what would turn out to be a 50-50 day for Shannon, the Thanksgiving semi-formal dance was all that was on her mind as her mother pulled and twisted, then sprayed gobs of hairspray, pulled and twisted and sprayed some more on the neatly styled hair atop her head, thus showing off her angel kisses.
The yellow, off the shoulder dress fit to a “t” and a few moments after slipping on the dress the doorbell rang. Shannon almost ran to the door hoping it would be Clint, at the last moment, asking her to the dance.
“Gosh,,, oh my!” was all Jimmy Conners, on his part time job delivering for the Kerrville florist, could say.
Shannon grabbed the package from his hand with her left hand and with her right hand landed an expertly thrown jab to his stomach.
She only heard him gasp for air through the closed door.
Her brother Ian was standing in front of her when she turned around.
“Mom just got called over to a friends house and Dad is out back tending to a sick calf. Want some peanut brittle?” Ian asked Shannon, totally oblivious to this most important night in Shannon’s life. “Oh, Yeah. Mom said to tell you that Gramp’s was going to give you a ride to the party.”
“Semi-formal dance, dingo-berry.” Shannon replied in frustration.
“Whatever.” Ian said as he munched his way back to the TV room.
The night, already a disaster, didn’t sit well with Shannon even when Gramp’s told her how pretty she was and that she reminded him of his wife the first time they went out.
Nor, the fact that as they pulled up to the front of the high school, Clint, with his arm around another girl, drove off in his pick up truck.
“Looks to me they named that vehicle correctly.” Gramp’s said when it became apparent that the kids in the pick up truck, that almost hit them as they rounded the drive to the front door of the school, were the kids that Shannon was supposed to meet.
“What, Gramp’s?”
“The truck, seems it’s a pick-up truck after all.”
When Shannon quit laughing hard enough to cry tears, she just cried.
And, cried some more.
The Sonic drive-in, in my estimation, is best known for two items, onion rings and limeade, as long as you have extra ketchup. That’s what was ordered. Jumbo, both.
“It wouldn’t have worked out anyway.” Gramp’s said
Shannon looked at him in disbelief. How could he be so cruel, she thought. Clint was her true love, of this she was certain and Gramp’s sits there and says something like that.
Gramp’s, as he was prone to do, continued.
“Sure, it was meant to be this way. It never would have worked out for you, darling. Maybe, at first it would seem a lot of fun but, what would happen the first time you went fishing with him and I had taught you all of my secrets and even let you use a little fish-spit on your bait? Why, you would out fish him so bad the boy would have to quit school and take a job cleaning out cattle cars on the trains he’d be so embarrassed.”
That evening, two old friends became old friends again. Most of the onion rings, ketchup and all, were fed via a Frisbee toss out Shannon’s window to a stray, half starved dog out at “Cooper’s Bluff.” The two old friends spent all night, till near dawn the next day talking, laughing, talking and with more than a few good cries thrown in for proper measure.
Funny as it would seem, Shannon’s mother, who had stayed up waiting for her daughter, completely understood, and approved, when Gramp’s opened the front door to let Shannon in.
Mom didn’t seem to mind, either, and seemed to knowingly understand, being with Gramp’s and all, that her beautiful young woman of a daughter stood there smiling with a rum soaked, black as coal pitch cigar jutting from her lips. Gramp’s too.
“Mom,,, you won’t believe what a great date I had!”