Love Thursday: Happy Birthday, Grandy Don
My Grandpa's 81st birthday would have been this week. He would have been might pissed to have been 'that old'. He died five years ago, a few months after walking me down the aisle at my wedding.
He was quite the character. Grandpa was a farmer and a rancher on the dry, dusty eastern plains of Colorado. He drank too much and smoked too much. He cussed, he wasn't faithful, and he lived most country songs out loud. He told one story of being in a bar, and getting into an altercation with another cowboy, that "I needed that last shot of hot toddy like Custer needed the Indians". He had a flair for the story-telling.
He certainly lived large.
After his son died in a tragic accident, my grandpa sold his farm to my dad and moved away. Eventually, after trying his hand at owning race horses, grandpa moved to El Paso and opened up a gift gallery - it was a gorgeous store. He had every reason to be proud of it, too.
I didn't much know my grandpa until he moved to El Paso. Between my birth and the early 90's, he was this figment of my imagination, really. He'd appear for certain occasions, but often times, he was the hushed topic of conversation. I once wrote him a letter begging him to stop smoking after having a class lecture on smoking. He wrote back that he appreciated the thought, but he'd just keep on smoking. At least it was a letter in return, and I treasured that (I have it to this day).
When my dad died, my grandpa stepped up. He offered to sell his store and come back and help us run our farm. My mom declined that offer, but I know the offer meant the world to her. Instead, my grandpa would come up, visit, and volunteer to sit in the big meetings my mom had to attend. He helped her make the big decisions and gave her support that he hadn't for years before.
My grandpa and I became very close in the last ten years of his life. I'd call my grandparents a few times a week. They'd tell me about their dog, the store, the motorcycle he'd just purchased, and ask me why I was still single. If you called after 5 pm, they'd be on the patio, both smoking and my grandpa drinking "Crown with a coke back".
When my mother once puzzled why my granpda and I were so close, he told her, "Jesus Christ! It's because I'd pick her for a friend if she weren't my granddaughter. I like her that much". He could be onery with me and I wouldn't take offense.
When it came time for my husband to meet my grandpa, I was nervous. We sat down to dinner at a nice place in town, and my grandpa announced he was going outside for a smoke. He looked at my soon-to-be husband and said, "I love my granddaughter. She's my world. Her dad isn't here to take care of her, so I am. If you lay ONE HAND on her, I will keeeeeeeeel you" ... and walked out.
My husband ordered my grandfather a Crown with a coke back, and had it waiting for him when he returned from the smoke. When he said the drink, he thanked me for it - and I quickly said, "Oh no! HDHusband ordered that for you!".
My grandfather looked at the drink, looked at HDH, paused, said, "Well, hell. You could beat her for all I care!" - and we all laughed.
He's been gone for almost five years now. The world is a lot less colorful without him in it, but his stories live on.
And this is my favorite picture of him ... taken at my wedding. He's sitting at the end of the bar, next to my grandpa, with his Crown and coke back.
I miss you, Grandy Don.
"We've been in and out of love and in between
And now we've played the final showdown scene
As the credits roll the sad song starts to play
this is where the cowboy rides away
And my heart is sinking like the setting sun
setting on the things I wish I'd done
Oh the last goodbye's the hardest one to say
this is where the cowboy rides away ..."
~ George Strait
Labels: grandy don, love thursday, they don't make cowboys like that anymore
