Today is my Grandpa’s birthday. I was always excited to celebrate with him. It meant there would be chocolate cake with pecans and black walnut ice cream or, if Grandma was being especially nice, raisin pecan pie. It was his favorite. I’m pretty sure he’s the reason I love pecans so much.
CEW, 1997
Grandpa’s birthday also meant that Thanksgiving was coming as well as another couple birthdays… It was party time!
Now, back to the raisin pecan pie.
It wasn’t like a pecan pie (my favorite pie) with raisins. No, it was like a funeral pie with pecans. I remember watching Grandma boil the raisins to plump them up. Prepare a double pie crust. Assembling and baking it in her cool old electric range with double upper ovens and a cook top that retracted when not in use.
Grandpa sure loved that pie. I haven’t made one in ages. Actually I’ve only ever made it once IIRC. It’s a lot of work and we’ll, if you’re not a raisin lover, I mean really love raisins, it’s gonna take a while to eat that whole pie by yourself. I don’t have Grandma’s recipe anymore, but here’s a close approximation. Just add a whole bunch of chopped (or halved) pecans.
So I’ll not be making his favorite pie today. Just reminiscing about The Old Codger and being thankful for having experienced life with him.
Today is the anniversary of my grandfather’s birthday, of blessed memory.
He loved pecans so his birthday treat usually contained pecans. Either in the form of a raisin pecan pie, his favorite, or a chocolate cake topped with pecans.
He loved John Wayne movies and I remember watching so many of them that I was surprised to learn there were some I hadn’t seen.
He collected firearms. All types and sorts. I remember watching him disassemble and clean them with fascination. He was so focused and serious. He enjoyed collecting them and target practice. He taught me to say “44 Magnum”, an early addition to my vocabulary.
He tinkered out in his man cave, otherwise known as the carport/garage. I helped him many a time smelt lead for making bullets. I still remember the smell that little crucible put off when it heated the lead.
I used to sit on the steps and just watch him do whatever he was doing. Often it involved WD-40. That smell still takes me back to those wooden steps, sitting with Grandpa.
He always kept a big bottle of Tabasco on his side table. He put it on everything he ate. Therefore, so must I! He also would let an aspirin dissolve in his mouth instead of swallowing it. So I had to as well. One time I saw him drinking apple cider vinegar and, you guessed it, I needed a glass for myself.
He and grandma loved their pets. Over the years there were many. Hinerich, Hinnie for short, the wiener dog was before my time but I heard so many stories of him I thought I knew him. There was Pierre the poodle, the Siamese cats: Sam Ying and Koko Ping, then the birds. They had cockatiels. Three of them. Susie and Toby and the third escapes me. I’m sure my mother or sister will remind me. These birds were so spoiled. I remember Toby sitting on my Grandpa’s fork as he ate. Toby would lean down and nibble a little bite on the way up from the plate! Crazy!
He was a purple heart veteran of WWII. He was opinionated and stubborn. He was my Beanpa, my mentor, my roll model. I loved him so. I remember only twice being in trouble with him. I was crushed. I never wanted to upset him again.
In my mind he was amazing. I know, of course, he was far from perfect. Grandma used to say “don’t speak I’ll of the dead” so I remember the good things and let love cover the other things.
I’m thankful for my experiences with the “Old Codger” (as he called himself). I can still here him call my grandma “Chicken”. He also taught my baby sister Emma to call him “Nicky Baby”. He thought this comic genius.
He held two of my babies before his passing. I’m thankful for the knowledge and wisdom he passed down to me. And for the lessons I learned from him, even the ones not to do. May he continue to rest in peace. CEW.
It’s November!! Woo hoo. Winter is definitely here, a dusting of snow to welcome November’s arrival. It’s day one of my birth month. Gifts and adoration accepted daily, of course.
November also brings some of my favorite things. Pumpkin pies and cornbread dressing. Birthday cakes and ice cream. My Mom’s birthday too. And her anniversary, in no particular order. A surprise visit from my Seester!!! As well as an early Hanukkah. It will be a busy week starting with Thanksgiving, then birthdays and rolling right into the feast of dedication.
November is a huge birthday month in our realm. There’s the twins, Thing 1’s boyfriend’s birthday, MaKayla, Me & Mom’s and a few other friends and memorial days thrown in there.
Grandpa’s was the 21st and my dear friend Katherine’s was the 28th, both of blessed memory.
I like to think of November as a month of feel-good, like a warm sweater, sitting around a bonfire with a hot cocoa and all your loved ones kinda feel good.
Since I never made that follow up post about their visit, I thought I’d share a few highlights.
Waiting for them to come through the gate. Our first meal together at Kriner’s in Anchorage.A pit stop along the way home.Photo op near home.One of my favorite memories, seeing Papa and the kids walking hand in hand along the beach.Had to stop in for a Salty Dog at the Salty Dawg.Had to host a cookout for our friends to meet my folks. The weather was right for a bonfire.And another salty dog. Someone forgot the salt tho, so I guess it’s a greyhound.These two…So long, farewell, adieu, until we meet again…And they’re off. Love you! Come back soon.
It is that time of year to remember and acknowledge the sacrifice and service of our Veterans. Remember, Veteran’s Day is meant to honor the living vets in our lives, and those who did not die during service (Memorial Day is for Vets who died in service to our country.) Our town has an avenue of flags down the highway as is popular in many communities across our nation. There are a large number of veterans in Alaska. Both of my vets are gone now, my Grandpa and Dad. Grandpa served during WWII as a forward scout and Dad served in the heavy artillery division in the Vietnam conflict.
Dad
The fact that both of them survived their very close calls is nothing less than a miracle. Grandpa took  gunshots in the midsection. I remember seeing all those bullet hole scars in his abdomen as a child and asking him what they were, he always told us grand-kids that they were extra belly buttons. Talking about their war experiences was difficult for both of them. War is hell. There is no other way to describe it.
Grandpa
There’s nothing glamorous about war. It changes people’s lives, for multiple generations. I look forward to the day when we have no more need for war. Even so, I am so grateful for the honorable service both of these men offered their country. I am even more grateful that they came home. They were scared, but not cowards, they did their “duty”, and they were changed forever for it. Their war experiences were passed down to the second and third generations, through the various ways that war changed them, it changed us.
Alaska on my mind... 