Random Grandpa Memories

Grandpa about to smack me upside the head, circa 1982.

Had my Grandpa Brown lived, he would have been 117 years old last month. Alas, he was taken much too soon at the age of 96.

As the gray hairs swarm and multiply on my own once youthful head, memories of Grandpa come rushing back . . . .

I remember how he used to break the filters off his Camel cigarettes before lighting up because filters were for sissies, and how the waistband of his pants rose higher with each passing year. When he had to by a longer belt and larger pants he always said it was because the older he got the more his chest dropped.

And how could I forget his artificial leg? He once stapled his sock to it because he was tired of how it kept slipping down the smooth surface of his wooden calf. Grandma was furious, but that was just how he rolled.

I am flooded with fond memories of helping him tear down the slant-6 engine of some old car in his garage. He was a mechanic, a carburetor specialist, and he could fix anything. Today's automotive electronics would have eluded him, I think, but if it had moving parts and it didn't work he could pull it apart, put it back together, and it would be better than it was when new.

He gave me my first vehicle: a 1970 four-wheel drive Chevrolet pickup, dark metallic green with a bored-out 350, Holley 4-barrel, headers and Thrush mufflers. Hell on gas mileage, but I could have pulled your house off its foundation with that tank of a truck. Its doors had more steel in them than in the entire body of the Toyota 4-cylinder truck I traded it in for years later that didn't have enough towing power to pull your hat off.

The only advice he gave me about its maintenance before I left for college was, "Keep the oil changed and don't skimp on tires."

I think this is how Grandpa saw pretty much everyone.

Solid advice for anyone, and something I've always remembered.

That's the way it was with Grandpa Brown though. He'd throw his comments out there on whatever the situation was and not waste time elaborating or explaining. You took what he was saying and kept it, or you stood there like an idiot wondering what the hell he was talking about. Either way, I don't think he much cared.

Sometimes nihilistic and bitter, often profane, many times utterly incomprehensible, it is his words and phrases more than anything that keep Grandpa's memory alive for me today.

As sort of a tribute, I've compiled here a few of my favorites of his more frequently uttered aphorisms, along with notes on their situational context. Out of respect to Grandma who never, ever, swore, I've edited out a few of his more colorful words. I hate doing that but I'm sure your imaginations will provide adequate substitutions.

• "A frying pan works both ways once the cook leaves the kitchen." He often said this about people who questioned his way of doing something.

• "Nothing to do now but [bleep] in the chimney and go home." A reference to something being a lost cause.

• "Get over thinking you're special. Some day you'll be trading shoes with a donkey, and then I guess you'll see."  I still haven't managed to unravel what he meant by this one.

• "You can't stomp a spider with both feet in the bucket." Used when someone was failing at a task as a result of laziness and/or incompetence.

• "Wish in one hand and [bleep] in the other hand and see which fills up first." I learned at a very early age that Grandpa wasn't big on people going around wishing for things (not a Grandpa original, but one of his favored sayings).

• "Get a load of that guy. All dressed up with his hair slicked back and shining like a monkey's ass." Apparently Grandpa also had a problem with men who used hair gel.

I could go on, but in deference to the brevity Grandpa always favored, I'll leave things where they are and call it good for now. After all, as he often said, "no sense hiding the mice when the owl's already full."

Rest in Peace, Grandpa Brown.

Petrified Cherubs of Gloom

"Why was I not made of stone, like thee?" – Victor Hugo

We don't know what the weather is like where you are, but here at the Happy Home Products headquarters, we're starting to wonder if there ever really were such things as blue sky and sunshine.

Even the shelves our warehouses, so normally full of brightly-colored products of cheer and wonder, now seem to be sagging beneath the weight of winter's icy embrace.

It was in the gloom-shrouded aisles of Warehouse B that we came across this grim tableau of petrified cherubs, apparently frozen in the act of dining on an old tire. Beholding them, you'll wonder, as did we, what terrible force turned them to stone during their bleak repast. Our best guess is that Medusa passed by and these unfortunate angels spared her a glance, thus sealing their fate to eventually crumble away to gray dust as time marches unmercifully onward.

We're sure that once this monochromatic sculptural marvel takes up residence in your home you'll be inspired to pause for a moment during the daily empty chores of your life to ponder the fleeting nature of life, and to whisper, "please, when it's my turn to leave this world, at least let me not be preserved stuffing food into my mouth with a stupid look on my face."

We can't even pretend to offer any answers as to what may lie beyond this life, but we can give our guarantee that this durable item will likely be around long after you're gone, leaving your descendants to wonder why the hell you would have bought such a thing. Scant comfort, we know, when faced with questions of mortality, but it's the only truth we have to offer. 

Our time here is short, so don't delay! Begin your Existential Journey today by ordering this stony representation of the dark cloud of doubt that is ordinarily surrounded by the whimsical silver lining of hope you have carefully constructed for yourself. Now at a special sale price!

Petrified Cherubs of Gloom

Regular Price: $34.95

NOW: You know what? We don't even care anymore. Just make an offer.