Tuesday, February 28, 2012


It's a treat to have fresh cantaloupe in our house.  Only Laughter and I enjoy it, so we usually pass it by in the store.  This past week I couldn't resists the overwhelming joy he has about it, I gave in and we brought it home with us.  It's juicy and soft, perfect for eating. 

As I was savoring the taste my mind went back to the many, many weekends I would spend at my grandparents.  If there was snow on the ground as a child then I was at Grammy and Grandpa's house.  Usually skiing.  (My grandfather close to 80 now is still a ski instructor).  With every bite of the fruit I was reminded of the growing up I did under there care.

Grammy taught me how to tell time and how to not only eat whatever was offered to me, but also to enjoy it.  She's still the best cook I know.  There are days I long for her cooking wishing I could stop by for diner.  Gram an army Sargent (for real, I'm not just saying that to make a point) had very clear rules and never gave in. I hope to be like her when I'm a grandmother. I want a deep lasting relationship with my grand kids.  I want them to have respect for me as she demanded at first but then freely had from me.

Grandpa taught me the art of skiing, good work ethics, and how to laugh my way through life; always laughing.  From him I saw how to get up when I was down and how to persevere when I thought I couldn't go on.  That the family is a unit that must be valued and must worked as a team. Most importantly how to laugh at myself and be adventurous.  Life was always good in at there house.  It was my safe place. 

Memory lane is long: I first sledded on a cardboard box on the hill behind the farm house.  I learned how to climb the hallway walls leading to the bathroom to sit in wait for somebody to pass by so I could drop in front of them to scare them silly.  The many ski trips.  One time I lost my glove on the chair lift in the middle of the woods and grandpa in his ski boots trekked through the forest looking for my glove.  I learned to love square pizza, tofu, and the courage to eat new foods.  In the summer before bed Gram would tell us stories of the monster that climbed through open windows to eat little girl's toes.  I'd put on my strong face as I went to bed (and sometimes I didn't) even though I was terrified, but I knew Grandpa would come in a few minutes later to give me a flash light even though gram told him not too.  Gram's living life teaching moments, she was always trying to teach me something new and still is.  Grandpas news that he always snored through.  Grandpa bouncing and singing my babies to sleep so I could sit and relax in the evenings.  Gram's lessons that she's still teaching. 

Cantaloupe, good stuff.

1770.  Gram & Grandpa Shim.
1771.  The old farm house.
1772.  Skiing.
1773.  Gram's cooking.
1774.  New foods.
1775.  Flying across to the other side of the world with Grandpa so I could know his family and his growing up world.

1776.  Road trips.
1777.  Seaweed and rice.
1778.  Stories and flashlights.
1779.  Green tea.
1780.  The news turned up way to loud.

1781.  A big brother to ski with.
1782.  A cousin, always falling.  Once even walked down the mountain.
1783.  Strawberries.
1784.  Learning to make jam from Grammy.
1785.  A family unit.

1786.  The value of family.
1787.  Walls to climb.
1788.  Grams white and grey speckled kitchen table.
1789.  Unconditional love.
1790.  Boundaries.

1791.  Many adventures.
1792.  Many lessons learned.
1793.  Sneaking in a visit as an adult just for comfort to know all is well in the world.
1794.  Stories of the old days.
1795.  Grandpa singing and bouncing my babies to sleep.

1796.  Daily life seemingly easy no matter comes up because of the togetherness.
1797.  Gram giving letting my one year old, Man of the woods, help her was 4 dozen eggs.
1798.  Gram giving my two year old, Man of the woods, a dozen eggs while she made breakfast using the broken ones for the scrambled eggs.
1799.  Scolding my grandmother for allowing my two year old to make hamburger patties.

1800.  Walking with grandpa with my babies in the stroller.
1801.  Laughter, Grandpa's younger version.

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