I don't know why, but this afternoon I've been thinking about my grandpa. This would be my dad's pop, his name was Fred, and he was a little German man who had been crippled by polio or something when young and used these two metal support cane/walker things to get around. He was a quiet man, didn't say too much nor show much affection, a very hard worker. But grandma was the matriarch and ruled the house (and you wonder where I got it!)... She ran a tight ship and would always order my grandpa around, made him go outside to smoke his pipe. He smoked the best smelling tobacco, I don't remember if it was cherry or apple or what but it smelled delicious.
Grandpa and grandma were pinnochle players (cards) and played cutthroat. They never played on the same team and just HATED giving the other the bid. I remember their bids being astronomical compared with others I have played with. Course back then it was just the adults that got to play. I loved to watch them, though.
Anyway, if you told grandpa something amazing or that was news to him he had this expression: "well I'll be go to hell."
He was a hold out from joining the dubs, grandma went, two of my aunts, one of my uncles was pretty high up in bethel during the sixties and early seventies and then suddenly was disfellowshipped for apostacy. But grandpa let grandma handle the religion for their family.
I never once saw them express affection for each other, nor ever fight either. But one memory stands clear in my mind as if it were yesterday (it was 30 some years ago instead). When grandma died, he stood over her coffin crying. He took his wedding ring off his finger and laid it inside the coffin with her and told her he would never need it again because they were burying his heart with her. There wasn't a dry eye there.
Grandpa passed away almost 20 years ago. Don't know why he's in my thoughts.
For some reason I wanted to share that memory. I'll be go to hell, grandpa.
Sherry