I only had one Grandfather who I can remember. My Mother’s Dad, Jervis Stewart. My Dad’s Dad, Henry Bowers died when I was two. I don’t remember him at all, and as far as I know there are no photographs of the two of us together. All my great grandfather’s were long dead. So Grandpa Stewart was my one and only.
Nowadays as our culture has changed, a lot of times people have multiple Grandparents. Steps, and Greats. Not so back in the day.
Grandpa Stewart taught me a lot of things. He helped me immensely with my love of music. He played a banjo, and was a good singer. He wrote songs. I sat out on the front porch of his house, under the stars and listened to him play. I learned to appreciate the stars and the moon.
Grandpa taught me how to shoot a .22 rifle. We would walk a piece down the road and plink a squirrel or two for supper. Grandma knew how to fix ’em up good!
We fished. I listened nightly to the stories of his youth and young adulthood. Exciting stuff for a little kid.
We went to his old two story, tin roofed house every year for Christmas and I spent many a summer break in Blue Ridge. I had a pretty good childhood in spite of many, many issues with Mom’s health and well being.
Oh…and Grandpa taught me my first cuss words. He also had a temper too..especially as he aged and his memory and cognition started to go. I never got to tell him goodbye. He wouldn’t have known. He died in 1991 in June. He was 98 years old. Besides my Daddy, he was the most influential male role model in my life. For better or for worse, the chestnut doesn’t fall far from the tree.
I have a picture of him and Grandma sitting on the dresser back in my spare bedroom. All these years I thought he looked pretty old, but not really “old”old..
The picture was taken in 1958 when Grandpa was 65 and Grandma was 59.
I looked at it today, and he doesn’t seem anywhere near as old looking as he has in the past. I guess it’s all perspective.