My Two Grandpas

For the past few weeks I have been thinking about my grandpas. It started with a breakfast in McDonald’s right before I took the CPA test. I rarely eat breakfast or at McDonald’s but when the two occasionally collide I always order a Sausage Biscuit. My Grandpa Sherl taught me that putting mustard on a Sausage Biscuit considerably improved the breakfast sandwich.

Grandpa Sherl was not my blood grandfather. My mom’s dad died in a car crash when she was only 18 years old (Update: she informed that she was 20). My grandma got remarried to my Grandpa Sherl two days after my fifth birthday (Update: once again my mother informed me that it was my seventh birthday). Because we were so young my siblings and I never had a problem calling him grandpa.

One of my favorite memories of Grandpa Sherl happened Thanksgiving Day 1993. Grandpa, a life long Dallas Cowboys fan, was watching the Cowboys beat the Dolphins. Everything was going fine until the Cowboys blocked a potential game winning field goal and Leon Lett mistakenly tried to recover the ball. My grandpa stormed out of the house after the Dolphins recovered the ball on the goal line and kicked the game winning field goal. It was the only time in my life that I ever saw him mad at anyone.

My other grandpa, us grandkids called him Papa, is the constant joker. The earliest prank that I can remember him pulling off was when I was six or seven. All of the grandkids were staying with my grandparents at their cabin in the mountains. We were all playing inside when Papa came storming into the house, grabbed a butcher knife, and said something to the effect of, “Dede (my grandma) that bear is back again” before he hustled outside.

We were shocked and scared that Papa was going out to battle the bear. A few minutes later Papa emerged with blood (which turned out to be ketchup) all over his clothes. He announced that he had slaughtered the great beast and wanted to take us kids to see what was left of the bear.

Papa led the way behind the cabin to where the dead bear lay. Suddenly something big cried out as it rustled in the bushes. All of the grandkids, including myself, ran as fast as we could back to the cabin. We were in such a hurry that we did not hear the “beast” in the bushes was just mooing nor did we hear grandpa laughing.

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Grandpa Sherl died of cancer my sophomore year of college. The last memory I have of him was his smile when we walked into the room to visit even though he was in obvious pain. He was a great man and is sorely missed.

Papa is still pulling pranks even though now he is legally blind. When led into a crowded bathroom he will pretend to believe the sink is the urinal just to embarrass the person with him. He has also been know to act as if small bushes are dogs while he tries to “pet” them.

I consider myself very lucky to have such wonderful grandfathers and will forever cherish all the great memories that I have of them.