I was blessed that I knew all of my grandparents, and I loved them all, but Gramps was more than a grandparent, he was a friend, and the best kind of friend. He was the type of friend that assured you that you were fabulous (actually, the words he would have used was "ultra, ultra, ultra") the way you were; the kind of person who helped you out of jams and didn't judge you, and never told your parents. He helped my cousin and I get burrs out of hair, and he got the grass stains out of my pants without my mother knowing that I had stained my knees yet again. Those were the only two times I really needed his help, since I was an absolute angel, but my cousins could tell you stories! And he was the type of BFF that was always at the ready with something fun! He would spend his time of our visits downstairs in his basement with the kids, playing his reel-to-reel tapes and getting out his giant newspaper roll (he was a pressman) for us to draw on. He went around round-abouts as many times as you wanted with no regard for the time or the destination (or, as I now realize, the stress and potential danger of driving in a round-about in the Boston area!). You really could not ask for more from any one else in your life.
|My father is now the Gramps|
to my daughter