Where were you in...........?

Woke up this morning reflecting on the past 40 years or so...that's what a person does I suppose while waiting on assistance for a morning bath and rearranging her boot cast.  My husband is so tired I may be waiting awhile.  So a good time to blog!

40 years ago I was 17 years old, in Grade 11.  All 4 of my grandparents had passed away over the previous year and a half so it was a stressful time in our home.  My most precious and beloved Pop, paternal grandfather, had passed away and I was a bitter, angry teen who felt left behind by the person who loved her most.  My parents had not taken me to BC for the funeral because I had exams to write at school and it took me a long time to understand and forgive them.

Pop was a wonderful character, peasant Irish from County Armagh.  He loved me unconditionally.  He was the kind of grandpa every kid should be blessed with. He was Irish Presbyterian but I don't know when he last darkened the door of a church. Pop's Christianity was simple:  "If it's in the Bible Sis, it is true."  I have no idea if he read the Bible much, but his faith in God was strong.  His wisdom was simple: "Either it will happen or it won't happen." That statement calmed many childhood fears. His driving directions were the best: "Just follow the white line!" haha  He bought me my first real bed so I could get out of my hated baby crib, my first cigarette at age 5 to cure me of the urge should it arise in future, and my first taste of wine. He lived right across the alley from us, I saw him every day of my life for many years and he took me everywhere with him. Pop was a Jack of all Trades working with gasoline tanks, electricity, tools.....you name it.  When I was very small he would take me with him to work many a morning.  The day began with a nice long coffee break at Calgary's National Bakery....17th Ave SW in the 1950's!  He would order "one and one":  a coffee for him and a 7Up for me.  Then we would go down the street to Bennett and Emmett electrical supplies where I would play with the secretaries and have a cookie.  Then off to whatever small community outside Calgary that was having an underground gasoline tank installed that day.  Pop would work on the project while I amused myself in the truck or in the gas station, or at the home of whatever kindly older couple he had met in that town previously.  Times with Pop were always happy.  He and grandma came for dinner nearly every Sunday night.  Once again Pop was practical in his approach: as soon as the meal was done, he would thank my mother for the meal and head for home.  Dad used to get upset with him for not staying to visit after dinner, but Pop always said, "You invited me for dinner and dinner is over so it is time to go home."  haha  He would always wink at me.  I think he really did it just to annoy dad. Pop was a man of the earth, the practical, the trades.  Dad is a musician and composer and teacher.  I don't think they got along as they were so different from each other.  All my memories of Pop are happy and when he died of cancer it was and continues to be the saddest day of my life.  Every child should have such a blessing as he was to me.