How One Thing Leads to Another

Doesn't every little child love a new box of Crayons? And the bigger the box the better, right? So, I'm not a little child but I wanted a big box of Crayons, maybe because I only had boxes with eight colors when I was in school. And now that I have 64 colors to choose from don't I always go back to the basic eight? Too many choices! (see post for 2/1/11) What does that have to do with remembering my maternal grandfather? One thing leads to another, and I'm remembering a big coloring book he gave to me one Christmas, filled with puzzles and pictures and how I carefully colored every picture, then kept the book for years afterward. He was the only grandfather I ever had; my paternal grandfather died before I was born.

I can't remember too much about Grandma; we lived a few miles away from them, and with no car of our own in which to go visit, Christmas was about the only time I remember being at their house until she became sick and I went with Mama to stay a week. But I remember Grandpa as being a kind, loving person, a farmer and carpenter.

Mama has told me Grandpa was interested in photography; he took pictures and then developed them in a make-shift dark room he had set up in their storm cellar. When it came time for the film to be exposed to the light, in the process of developing, one of the kids would pull back the curtain he had hung over the doorway. The pictures were printed onto a postcard which could then be sent through the mail.

After I had children of my own, we would visit him and much to their delight, he would run the time up on his cookoo clock and the kids would wait patiently for the minutes to pass, then gasp with surprise whenever the little bird popped out of the clock and chirped away the hours.

Grandpa's birthday was on the 23rd of February; I always think of him fondly.