So, as some of you know, I recently went back to work. I'm back in part time retail. Not the most invigorating job in the world. But, I get to work in a very 'historic' place, with all sorts of fun tourist crap. Yes, crap. Mirror mazes, chocolate shops, restaurants, souvenir shops galore, and our little store. I'm not going into detail as to what my store is here. Don't need stalkers.
I've opened the store several mornings, meaning I get there around 9:45 or 10 am. It's really interesting to be on Cannery Row at that time of morning. All of the stores are opening up, and deliveries being made. It's quiet, and cool. It's a very interesting feeling to get to feel that place wake up. I've been there at all times of the day. Midday, walking around, shopping and enjoying the day, night time, enjoying the nightlife offered, and now early morning.
I'm not trying to wax poetic here, but I think that the morning is my favorite. There's just an amazing feeling of 'being a part of it' when you're there, seeing Cannery Row wake up. I can't really describe it. I just think it's amazing.
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
My Hero
I promised a while back that I would eventually write about the greatest man I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. This is a man I plan on naming my son after (if I ever get a son that is). This is a man who was always taking care of everyone else. This was my great grandfather.
I won't talk long (I hope). Some of you have heard a lot of this already. I talk about him a lot. My great grandfather, PawPaw to me, was born in 1926. He served in WWII. He came home and served on the local police force for 31 years. The earliest memories I have of him, are him getting ready for work. At that time, it was mostly him going to sit in the Burger King parking lot. I guess he was watching for speeders and waiting on calls. I remember riding around in his cruiser, going with him to direct traffic when one of the local elementary schools let out.
This man - he went above and beyond the role of grandfather. My mom's sperm donor skipped out on them when they were really young. I don't know the full story there, and I don't think I really need to. I know he left, and for a long time, didn't look back. My PawPaw stepped in and filled that void for them. He took care of them. That's why they call HIM Daddy.
Then I came into the world. I was his first great grandchild. He never stopped giving. He did so much for us as kids. From bringing all our favorite junk food and milk and drinks and anything our hearts desired to the house at least once a week, to taking one of the cars to the square for the Christmas Parade. He'd load that car down with snacks, drinks, and blankets. Then he'd come pick us up, drive back to town, and we'd walk from the car he'd picked us up in, to the car with the amazing view of the parade. Little things like that, to a kid, are huge. I remember when he got too sick to do that for us anymore and it broke my heart. Not because I was missing the parade (though that was part of it), but because Pawpaw wasn't there with us, even when we did get to see it. He didn't get to see me march with the band my senior year of high school.
When I started driving and went off to college, he always asked me (about 20 times in an hour) if I had gas in the car, when the last time the oil had been changed, and if I had air in the tires. Man, did it drive me crazy. Almost as much as when driving by a field of cotton, he'd tsk and say "Man, I wish you'd look at ALL that COTTON." I'd give anything to hear him say it now.
I spent most weekends that my parents let me, at their house. I stayed the night with them, stayed up late, watched t.v. and ate junk food. I'd rather go to their hour than to my friends' houses most of the time. I was spoiled.
He passed two days after my 20th birthday. I had an inkling when my dad called me that morning to ask me to come to his house. I was so selfish and self absorbed at the time, and I didn't want to. I didn't have enough gas to make it to work and back til pay day, unless my roommate came in with great tips during the week, and I couldn't figure out why he wanted me to come down so badly. Then, something in his voice go through to me. I'll never forget that day. I'll never forget hearing him on the phone with my mom telling her he loved her and that he was going to talk to me. I knew what he was going to say when he pulled me into the bear hugs only my dad can give. Knowing didn't make it hurt any less, though. That was almost six years ago. I'll be 26 in a month. Everyone always says time heals. That's not true. It hurts me just as much today, as it did then. I'll never get 'over' his loss. I can deal with it better now. I can't wait to tell my little girl about him. I can't wait until she's old enough to understand what an amazing man he was.
I've been thinking about him more than usual lately. Part of that is the fact that the anniversary is coming up. The other part is the beautiful song Miranda Lambert has out right now "Over You". The story behind the song is that her husband (Blake Shelton) lost his brother at a young age and wrote the song about him. He couldn't record it, but let her. Every time I hear it, I think of him again.
"But you went away,
How dare you?
I miss you.
They say I'll be okay,But I'm not going to ever get over you." - Over You by Miranda Lambert.
I won't talk long (I hope). Some of you have heard a lot of this already. I talk about him a lot. My great grandfather, PawPaw to me, was born in 1926. He served in WWII. He came home and served on the local police force for 31 years. The earliest memories I have of him, are him getting ready for work. At that time, it was mostly him going to sit in the Burger King parking lot. I guess he was watching for speeders and waiting on calls. I remember riding around in his cruiser, going with him to direct traffic when one of the local elementary schools let out.
This man - he went above and beyond the role of grandfather. My mom's sperm donor skipped out on them when they were really young. I don't know the full story there, and I don't think I really need to. I know he left, and for a long time, didn't look back. My PawPaw stepped in and filled that void for them. He took care of them. That's why they call HIM Daddy.
Then I came into the world. I was his first great grandchild. He never stopped giving. He did so much for us as kids. From bringing all our favorite junk food and milk and drinks and anything our hearts desired to the house at least once a week, to taking one of the cars to the square for the Christmas Parade. He'd load that car down with snacks, drinks, and blankets. Then he'd come pick us up, drive back to town, and we'd walk from the car he'd picked us up in, to the car with the amazing view of the parade. Little things like that, to a kid, are huge. I remember when he got too sick to do that for us anymore and it broke my heart. Not because I was missing the parade (though that was part of it), but because Pawpaw wasn't there with us, even when we did get to see it. He didn't get to see me march with the band my senior year of high school.
When I started driving and went off to college, he always asked me (about 20 times in an hour) if I had gas in the car, when the last time the oil had been changed, and if I had air in the tires. Man, did it drive me crazy. Almost as much as when driving by a field of cotton, he'd tsk and say "Man, I wish you'd look at ALL that COTTON." I'd give anything to hear him say it now.
I spent most weekends that my parents let me, at their house. I stayed the night with them, stayed up late, watched t.v. and ate junk food. I'd rather go to their hour than to my friends' houses most of the time. I was spoiled.
He passed two days after my 20th birthday. I had an inkling when my dad called me that morning to ask me to come to his house. I was so selfish and self absorbed at the time, and I didn't want to. I didn't have enough gas to make it to work and back til pay day, unless my roommate came in with great tips during the week, and I couldn't figure out why he wanted me to come down so badly. Then, something in his voice go through to me. I'll never forget that day. I'll never forget hearing him on the phone with my mom telling her he loved her and that he was going to talk to me. I knew what he was going to say when he pulled me into the bear hugs only my dad can give. Knowing didn't make it hurt any less, though. That was almost six years ago. I'll be 26 in a month. Everyone always says time heals. That's not true. It hurts me just as much today, as it did then. I'll never get 'over' his loss. I can deal with it better now. I can't wait to tell my little girl about him. I can't wait until she's old enough to understand what an amazing man he was.
I've been thinking about him more than usual lately. Part of that is the fact that the anniversary is coming up. The other part is the beautiful song Miranda Lambert has out right now "Over You". The story behind the song is that her husband (Blake Shelton) lost his brother at a young age and wrote the song about him. He couldn't record it, but let her. Every time I hear it, I think of him again.
"But you went away,
How dare you?
I miss you.
They say I'll be okay,But I'm not going to ever get over you." - Over You by Miranda Lambert.
I guess I rambled a little more than I'd anticipated. If you stuck it out, and read the whole thing, thank you. This was more for me than for you. Sometimes, I just need to read about him. Or write about him. Thanks for being my sounding board guys.
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