I grew up in Upstate NY, where all the restaurants in town were owned by little italian men, the waiters were always male, shirley temples had 5 cherries in them & my grandmother ate parmesean cheese out of the palm of her hand.
I was my grandfathers lucky charm, which made me feel special enough to
never utter a peep while he played poker with my Uncle Dom and the family.
They were long lazy nights by the lake, fishing for sunfish, dragging the inner tubes out from under the house, and feeding the ducks to the sound of laughter.
Aunt Florence would scold us for riding the ancient lawn deer.
The buck had an unfortunate accident during one of those wild rides, and having one antler didn't suit Aunt Florence. What in the world were the deer there for anyway?? It was a mystery to us kids. She never would tell us the answer to that question. I know she would walk away laughing as we picked our brains trying to understand the meaning of the lawn deer.
My grandfather knew everyone in town, but I guess back in the day that's just the way it was. I miss those days. His stories would keep me enthralled when I was young, and enchanted when I was older. I would never tell my grandfather that "I'd already heard that one". No way.
My grandfather & I would sit infront of the wood stove, at a wobbly card table, playing Crazy Eights for hours. Those nights I remember...those nights were meant to be remembered.
Grandpa worked at JC Penny's for his entire life. He sold shoes.
He always seemed to be having the time of his life.
I believe it's because he had a captive audience for his stories while he had your shoes.
I would hang out with him, going into the backroom to help him find the perfect pair of shoes for his many regulars. He would always take the time to lace your shoes for you, to use a shoehorn and carefully ease your new shoe on, then have you stand so he could be sure your toes weren't crammed into the ends.
He cared about what he did...
He taught me that helping people properly was something to take pride in, no matter what you do in life.
He taught me a strong work ethic.
He taught me that people always wanted to talk about something.
He taught me that people loved to be remembered.
He taught me that people really
want to laugh at something, no matter how they look when you first see them.
He taught me to speak to people, to see some good in people & he taught me how to handle the bad in people.
When I was a toddler, my grandfather would shave with the
old brush and shaving cream in a bowl.
I would knock on the door, as if he didn't know I was coming, and he'd sweep me up onto the toilet top. I would sit while he swirled shaving cream all over my face, probably preparing me for the life of an italian woman. I remember those moments as if they happened yesterday.
When my grandfather died, I asked my grandmother for his shaving brush.
It sits in my bathroom right now.
When I look at it I smell shaving cream, and it makes me smile.
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