My Grandfather

If my grandfather were alive, he would turn 100 today. I guess that's enough to make me start to feel old. He was a simple man. Helped his wife to raise 7 kids, and worked at Harshaw Chemical down in Cleveland until he retired. He died of cancer, and although I never really knew just what he did at his job, I always wondered if something there killed him, or if it was just the two packs a day he smoked since he was a teenager.

So I guess his only claim to fame was to have been born on Abraham Lincoln's 100th birthday.

I do have fond memories of some parts of my childhood. Spending the night at my grandparents house in the summer, waiting up for gramps to come home from work. He got off at midnight, and his arrival time was 12:10, never varying. We had the coffee timed to be ready when he arrived, and if luck was with me, we would play some cards for a while. This was a special treat since I wasn't allowed to play cards at home, so I always felt like we were co-conspirators in an evil plot.

He tried to take me fishing once or twice, but I could never get into that. I think that was more to my brothers' liking. I was mostly content to visit, eat my grandmother's fantastic cooking, and play cards.

More than anything, though, I looked forward to the picnics. At least once or twice a year, we would get together for family picnics, usually at Washington Park. I lived to play croquet at these picnics, and with such a large family, there were plenty of players.

I thought life was good.