Every year we drove to FL to stay with my grandfather for vacation. He lived in a pink house: the color of the inside of a conch shell. The pink house was across the street from the ocean. All day you heard the ocean sounds. I hated sand, I know...funny. I dont know why but there were globs of black sticky oil on the beach. Subsequently we had to wash our feet before entering the house. Surrounding the house were, dancing palm trees, heady gardenias and sour kumquat trees. Every morning I found my grandfather reading the paper at the kitchen table eating soft boiled eggs, drinking orange juice from small juice glasses. Sounds a bit boring and predictable, but to me it was comforting. Every year, for my birthday he sent a check for how old I was.....hahaha. He liked to do, well, not much. This was retirement! He would take us out to dinner for chicken pot pie and mile high lemon meringue pie. He gave the best hugs. Before retirement he lived in Columbus were he built a building downtown, that's still there, with his name on it. During the depression he gave away money to struggling families.
I miss him very much. I know he was a "complicated " man, but he was MY grandaddy.