One Last Time

Last Thursday night, I was sitting in my much-despised Stats II class when I received a phone call from my dad.  Given the fact that I was in a class that I really needed to stay in, I couldn’t take the call and had to let it go to voice mail.  As soon as I was able to, I listened to the message and learned that my grandfather’s home has been sold and that the family was going to Paul on Saturday to clean his things out.  Of course I wanted to go so I made the necessary arrangements and, on Saturday, Holly and I loaded the kids in the van and we made the trip to Idaho.

As I was driving, I came to the realization that this is the last time that I will probably ever make the drive from my house to Paul, Idaho.  I remembered all of the times that I’d been on this road in the past: the time my dad got a speeding ticket trying to get me home on time, the time we broke down in Snowville and Grandpa had to come rescue us, all of the times we stopped in Tremonton to get malts, and the time that we had a cookie fight with Emmy on our way to the rodeo.  Of course, there were a lot more memories than these but if I were to list them all, this post would never end.

Once we arrived at Grandpa’s house, Holly and the kids said hi to everyone and then took off to Twin Falls to visit Holly’s sister.  That was when the work began.

Our purpose was to clean out Grandpa’s things.  The things that we found to be worth keeping were given to whomever wanted them, everything else was either thrown away or given to the D.I.  I wasn’t really there hoping to get stuff but I am happy that I was able to walk away with a few of his things.

When I was a little kid, there was a deer head hanging on the wall in the basement.  I remember Grandpa telling my cousin Eric that the rest of the deer was on the other side of the wall.  I remember this being very funny to me.  After he sold the farm and moved closer to town, the deer head found a new home in his “office” in the garage.  I am proud to say that it has now found yet one more home on the wall of my garage.  My dad said that this was the first deer that Grandpa shot so I’m guessing that it’s at least 60 years old, if not older.  If anybody has any more information about this, I’d love to hear it.

In addition to the deer head, I was able to take Grandpa’s fishing gear, specifically his fishing poles and tackle box.  Since he taught me how to fish, this is very cool for me.  I can’t count the number of times that Grandpa and Grandma took me fishing at Otley’s Pond.  We would always take our catch to City of Rocks where we’d start a fire and eat the fresh trout.  To this day, there’s little that I’d rather eat when we go camping than fresh trout.  I always thought that I was a great fisherman because of my great success on these fishing trips.  It wasn’t until years later that I learned that the pond was stocked which made catching fish very easy.  Despite this, it was still a highlight of my childhood.

Once everything had been gone through and packed up, Holly came to get me and we headed home.  Again, a flood of memories flashed through my mind and I realized again how fortunate I am to have had the grandfather that I did.  I learned a lot from him and am greatful for the 33 years in which I was able to know him.  A long chapter may have closed on my life but its effects will be remembered for generations to come.

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