to Grandpa on fathers day.

These are my memories of the man I new as grandpa.
Grandpa was an old school man of the world. A hard line southern democrat, he was a deacon at a small baptist church, and though strict, he was always good to me, and life was simple with him.  From my earliest memories I remember grandpa with his pipe, and the sir walter raliegh tobacco he always smoked. Years of smoking this same old pipe had made his left index finger crooked, and that crooked finger had the magical ability to freeze me in my tracks. For a kid, grandpa's garden was a wonderous place. I was always digging fox holes, or forts, and always seemed to finish them, and play in them for a while before grandpa, and that crooked finger would make me fill it in. I remember walking through the garden, and sometimes in the summer picking peaches, or cherries from the tree, and only today realize just how good they were. My early life was a collage of sliding down the cellar door after a rain, and saturday afternoon wrestling on TV with koolaid to drink, and sometimes having to adjust the antenna. Grandpa grew honeysuckles in the front yard along the fence, and the sweet nectar they yielded was always a welcome treat.
Thank you for all my memories, and for giving me the moral standards that serve me well, even today. Happy Fathers day grandpa.