Slightly Sarcastic

The Christmas season has brought forth many wonderful memories of my youth.  Among these memories,  some of the most wonderful are definitely those of my grandparents.  I was a Navy brat and moved around constantly which meant I never lived near any of my grandparents.  They visited once a year.   I learned to dread my dads parents – they were mean and vicious – but I’m not talking about them today.  I want to talk about my Nana and Grandpa John.  They were AWESOME.

My Nana met my grandpa when she was 17.  Within a year she was married and had my mom.  You know how it goes with kids, the first child can take any amount of time, it’s all the rest that take 9 months.  (I was married with kids before I even realized my Nana had gotten pregnant before she was married, I WAS SHOCKED!)  My mother was their only child and they divorced after she went off to college.  I can’t picture 2 more different people and can’t imagine how they ever got together.  My nana came from a huge catholic family in a little town in Minnesota, Little Falls.  There were 12 kids.  She learned how to knit and bake from here mother out of necessity while growing up.  Every year around Christmas she would visit and bake the most wonderful Christmas goodies, cookies, fudge, caramels, cinnamon rolls, popcorn balls and much more.  We would each recieve a pair of slippers, mittens and a sweater that she had knitted since her last visit.  This is all we ever knew of our Nana.  This sweet wonderful woman who would visit once a year bearing these amazing treasures we had been anticipating for months.  One of the nicest gifts she ever gave me was a book she made with all of her recipes in it.  I treasure this and try to keep her memory alive by baking these goodies for my kids.

My Grandpa John was a character.  He was the strong silent type.  He came from an extremely poor family.  When he was a young teen he took off to travel the country doing odd jobs and saving up his money.  When he settled in Little Falls, MN he opened a key shop/bicycle repair shop,  they lived in the apartment above this shop.  I’ve heard many stories of how he always helped people out.   This man was a hero to me.  I adored him.  He had a little shack in the woods outside of Little Falls where he hunted, fished and grew potatos.  Every year when he visited he would bring fish and venison that he had caught and frozen in milk cartons.  Me and my sisters must have annoyed the heck out of him.  We jumped on him from the second he arrived and wouldn’t leave him alone until he left 2 weeks later.  Some of his favorite pasttimes were playing cribbage, chewing tobacco and drinking beer.  He taught us all how to play cribbage.  We would sit downstairs for hours playing cribbage, sneaking beer (I think he knew all along) and chewing tobacco with him (he always made it look so yummy).  He’d cook up his fish and venison with potatoes and we would sit around the table while my mom got him to tell stories from his time traveling around the country when he was young.  He had the most interesting stories and pictures.  One I really love is the one of him standing next to an unfinished Mt. Rushmore.  A few years before he died my parents had the idea to start taping these dinner conversations with him (twenty years after his death we still listen to his stories)   After dinner he would always bundle up  and we would all go for a long walk with him.   I have never known another man like him.  I named my son John and love to share pictures and stories with him.

He died when I was 14.  I wish I had known him longer.

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