Sunday, June 10, 2018


My grandfather was a southern gentleman and a romantic. This is an example of the poems and writings he would send to my grandmother from work or leave in their home for her to find.

I visited my grandparents every summer from the time I was six. Mom and Dad would put me on a Greyhound bus for the trip from North Carolina to Alabama, nine hundred miles away. Sitting directly across from the driver, I enjoyed the scenery, confident in my safety. I'm sure my parents compensated him for his care. In a few years, my sister, Carolyn, joined me for the yearly adventure. Those were happy times.

Memories of those summers include my grandmother's baking. She made extra money by providing cakes for the community and was known for her ability. My desire for sweets developed at her feet.

My grandparents sang in the church choir and my love of music grew with every summer's visit. They both possessed lovely voices, and I remember many evenings sitting next to my grandmother at her piano.

Papa, as I called him, was a wise man, loving simple pleasures. His sense of humor and his intellect endeared him to many. 

He loved to fish and we spent many hours on the banks of the Chattahoochee River. We enjoyed the meals from our 'catch of the day'.  Fondly remembered are the tours with Papa giving the history of the town and its inhabitants, showing me his favorite spots and important landmarks.

Every evening, we would sit on the expansive front porch with our feet on the banister, watching the resident spider spin its web. To this day, the lessons from Papa on the simple things of nature bring delight.

Thank you, Papa, for the sweet memories.