My Grandpa

When I went to my parents’ house last Friday, my mom pulled out a few old photos of my Gramps (her dad), and she let me take a few home to scan. This photo above is my favorite.

This is Gramps as a teenager with his high school sweetheart Sarah during summer vacation in Staybrook, Connecticut. Very stylish!

My favorite memory of Gramps is from when I was only four years old. It was Christmas Eve, and he came by to visit and exchange gifts. Gramps handed me a thick envelope, I thanked him, and sat down on the beige carpet in our living room to open my gift. I opened the envelope, and as I took out the card, a large pile of money fell into my lap. I felt a burst of adrenaline shoot into my tiny system, and my eyes widened as I half-screeched & half-gasped the words “I’m rich! I’m rich!”

To a four-year-old, having twenty one-dollar bills fall into your lap is an amazing, exhilarating experience. I don’t remember anything about that evening besides those few moments, but many years later, my mother told me Gramps got a total kick out of my reaction, and it made his night.

I remember being even smaller than that, and being excited to visit Gramps, because that meant I could sit on his bear rug in his living room and eat those Milk Maid flavored caramel rolls that came in those shiny foil wrappers. Magenta foils were raspberry. Blue foils were vanilla. There were others, but those were the best. Gramps always had candy to offer his guests, even after he was diagnosed with diabetes in the early nineties.

My mother bought him a calendar every year for Christmas. The last Christmas he was able to make it over to my parents’ house, he said, “I’m here for my calendar!” with a big smart-ass grin on his face when he walked through the door. I laughed so hard.

He passed away two years ago, but he is still loved and missed very much.


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