Dear Karlin & Chase,
For some reason, I'm on the computer in the middle of the night because I can't sleep. I'm worried about Chase's issues in school. I'm worried about looking at this house tomorrow that we really can't afford. I'm worried about taking 10 Girl Scouts camping in a week in a half. I worried about getting a job.
I worry. A lot.
I just finished reading a book called "The Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother." It's an interesting story about a mom of Chinese descent living in America with her American husband and 2 daughters. She's implementing what she calls "Chinese parenting", which is very different than the way we do things here in the US. Anyway, it got me thinking about stuff. Parenting, and parents, and children and stuff.
And thinking about parenting made me think about my parents. And that lead to me thinking about my Dad. He's been gone for just over 9 years now and I can hardly believe it. While I am thinking of it, i want to tell you some things about your Grampy...
Grampy's name was Charlie Martin Padgett. Not Charles, just Charlie. He had a younger brother (James) and an older sister (Ann). He was born in, lived in, and died in Pensacola, Florida. He worked for many years as a Tool & Die Maker for The Navy.
He graduated from Pensacola High School, and your Grandma (Edwards) was in the same graduating class.
In his younger years he liked to play Golf and Tennis. He was a bowler and played in leagues at Felton's Bowling Alley for many years. (Sometimes ask Aunt Courtney about running around the pool tables at Felton's with our mouths full of Boston Baked Beans candy and Dr. Pepper, Foreigner playing on the Jukebox. Ask me another time what a Jukebox is.)
He and Granny used to throw the biggest parties on Christmas Eve, even in the tiny house we grew up in. It always seemed like there were a million people, and a million kids. (In reality there were probably 50-60 people, and 20 or so kids.) There was food and the kids would sneak sips off our Dad's beers and eat Summer Sausage and cheese and crackers, and Chex Mix, and fudge and fruit pizza. Then we would all sit outside and try to watch for Santa. There were always heated debates about where exactly the North Star was.
Grampy coached my T-Ball team when I was in the 3rd Grade. We were the worst team ever, basically made up of the rejects from all the other teams. We only won one game all season, but after that win we had the party to end all parties.
Grampy used to drive Paw-Paw's (that's my grandfather) green Chevy Truck, circa 1962. It had a camper on the truck bed, with a little bunk bed in it. Grampy was famous for loading up every single kid in the neighborhood and hauling us ALL in the camper to the beach. On the way home we'd stop at the Pak N' Sack and he'd buy slurpees for everyone. He was the neighborhood hero, and I think the Moms all loved him for getting the kids out from under foot every once in awhile.
Grampy knocked me senseless with a softball once. We were playing catch, and he threw it at me when I wasn't looking. It hit me square on the forehead and knocked me down. maybe knocked me out. I definitely couldn't see straight for a few minutes.
Grampy used to take us crabbing on the Pensacola Fishing bridge. We'd drive the truck out, bait and drop the traps, and then listen to country music and drink Chek Soda ( From Winn Dixie - Root beer or Orange) and wait. Then we'd pull up the traps. Grampy taught us how you step on the backs on the crabs to keep them from running, and then you rip the claws off. We ate really, really well on those days.
Grampy was also one of the worst canoeers I have ever seen. We spent many summer days with friends and family paddling down Coldwater Creek. Grampy invariably ended up in the trees, hit stumps, and beached the canoe. He even dumped it a few time. Looking back, though, I wonder if maybe he did some of that on purpose just to tick off Granny. We always thought it was so cool when it started to rain, and all the dads would put the paddles in the sand, put the canoes on top of them, and then Grampy would whip out this giant roll of clear plastic tarp. They would put the plastic over all the canoes making one giant rain tent.
Grampy loved dogs and birds. he always had bird feeders out, and could name a lot of the birds. He had bird books and binoculars at hand a lot of the time, and once he even had a clock that made bird calls on the hour. (I think we have him that for Christmas.)
If there was a stray dog in the neighborhood, Grampy would always want to take it in. Some of them we kept. Some we found homes for. One time he saw a stray dog get hit by a car. The dog died instantly, but Grampy went out into the road, picked up the dog, and then carried him into the backyard. He buried the dog in our yard, right alongside several of our own dogs.
Your Grampy cried when the last episode of "M.A.S.H" aired on TV. I mean, lots of people cried, but Grampy cried like crazy right in front of us. I think that was the first time I realized that men cry too sometimes.
Sometime you will have to ask Aunt Courtney about the time that Grampy was a hero at the UCF/Notre Dame Football game.
Your Grampy was a dork, in the best way. He was goofy in a way that I see in Chase sometimes.
I'm going to tell you more about Grampy when the mood strikes me. For now I'll just tell you that he was a simple but wonderful man, and that I miss him every single day.
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