My Life Ramblings

Growing up, my maternal grandfather, Grandpa Carlson, lived in a small, peaceful house back on a hill directly behind my childhood home. I grew up being able to run through the backyard, up Grandpa’s driveway, and head straight to his cozy kitchen where he kept cream-filled cookies in a jar on the counter.

I spent countless hours playing Cribbage and Rummy with Grandpa, while also learning valuable life lessons along the way.

Grandpa was an avid gardener, and he would help our family with our annual garden. Whenever it was time to harvest the vegetables, Grandpa would grab a 5-gallon bucket, a bowl, and his big straw hat and head outside. He would plop the bucket upside down between the rows of beans and use it as a seat as he plucked the vines clean of their produce. Grandpa was very methodical in everything that he did. His sections of the garden were always picked clean, missing not a thing.

Some of my earliest memories of Grandpa came from the kitchen when he helped Mom with canning fruits and vegetables. It seems like every year they were canning peaches, pears, pickles, beans, and corn. Our shelves were full of food, stored away for the winter months. Looking back, I wish I would have paid more attention to the canning process, along with just soaking up the wholesome memories.

Grandpa’s Move to Up North

In a recent blog post, I talked about my Paternal Grandparents and how they would pick me up from middle school on Wednesdays and take me Up North to their cabin. What I didn’t say is that my Maternal Grandpa also had a place Up North.

Grandpa Carlson moved Up North sometime during my high school years. He had a little, tiny place on a lake that was part of the same chain of lakes my parents’ cabin was on. We could get to his house by boat, but it was a long process, weaving through some fairly shallow channels and maneuvering in and out of small lakes. It was much easier to just drive 10 minutes and show up on his doorstep.

Grandpa was a quiet sole. At least, I remember that he always preferred quietness around him. You didn’t let the screen door slam behind you when Grandpa was sitting on the porch. It was also not a good idea to be in a loud argument with someone, or just participating in any loud activity, when he was near.

Grandpa seemed content with Up North life. He had places he would go and visit throughout the day, friends he would talk with at the local Tavern, and just a nice, simple routine to his later years in life.

After Grandpa moved Up North, he continued with his love of gardening at his small, lakeside home. He grew flowers, vegetables, fed the squirrels and birds, and just seemed happy.

My College Years with Grandpa

I always loved Grandpa, but I don’t think I started to really appreciate him until I was in college.

My first couple of years away at college was spent at Michigan Technological University. If you don’t know, MTU is situated way up in the Northern part of the Upper Peninsula. As a naive, college freshman, it was quite the change to be so far away from family. I remember the first year I was there, Grandpa sent me a care package, along with a letter. I’ve kept the letter in my purse ever since he sent it to me.

Here is the letter:

After a couple of years at Michigan Tech, I transferred to Central Michigan University to pursue a degree in Special Education. I opted to live at my parents’ cabin, rather than live in the dorms. Being at the cabin placed me within minutes of Grandpa’s place.

Reading on the Porch & Taco Salads

Grandpa’s place Up North was in an Association on a lake called Upper Evans. Sometimes, especially on the weekends, young kids would ride 4-wheelers around on the roads. The extra noise did not sit well with Grandpa. He enjoyed his peace and quiet, and was not a fan of the commotion that the kids would create. When it became too noisy, Grandpa would head over to my parents’ cabin and sit on their porch with a book.

I played cards with Grandpa as a child, and read with him on my parents’ porch as a college student. I enjoyed the time spent reading with Grandpa. He would read Louis L’Amour, while I read historical romance novels. It worked for us.

Some of the days, I had late classes and would get back to the cabin after 10:00 P.M. There were multiple days that I would get home late, go to the fridge to find something quick to eat before bed, and find a taco salad waiting for me. Grandpa would pick one up during the day and bring it over so that I would have something to eat on my late school days. I always assured him that he didn’t have to do that, but I appreciated it so much at the time.

Impromptu Thanksgiving Dinner

I have one more quick story about Grandpa, then I promise I’ll end this overlong blog post.

One day, close to Thanksgiving, I decided to cook Grandpa a turkey dinner Up North. It was my first time cooking a turkey by myself, so I was a little nervous. I wanted everything to be just right. We had turkey, mashed potatoes, corn, stuffing, and cornbread.

I remember looking at the table and there was an abundance of food, especially when it was just Grandpa and I eating. He seemed to enjoy everything, but Grandpa especially loved the cornbread and stuffing. He was amazed that I could make stuffing so quickly, and from a box.

At the end of the meal, Grandpa went to the counter where the turkey ‘body’ sat on a cookie sheet. He ended up pulling off some more of the meat that I had apparently missed when I first pulled the meat from the bones. Grandpa did not like wastefulness.

We both had enough leftovers to probably last us a week. It’s one of those memories that will always stay with me. I may forget what I made for dinner yesterday, but I won’t forget Grandpa’s smile as he ate cornbread and stuffing Up North one fall day.

Grandpa passed away in November of 2007. I’ve been thinking of him more often than usual because of the, time I’ve been spending in my Writing Cabin. He never saw the cabin, or even knew of my dream to become an author, but I’m thinking he would have approved of my dream and my little writing spot. I sit here, typing away on my computer, watching the hummingbirds fly to the feeders and the squirrels scamper around in the trees, just like he watched the squirrels and birds when he was alive. If he was here now, he’d definitely be reading a worn copy of a Louis L’Amour paperback, sitting in Aunt Bea’s chair here in my cabin, enjoying the peacefulness and the quiet company.

Goals for Today:

• Organize bookshelves in my classroom
• Read a chapter from my current book
• Work on Pinterest