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<blockquote data-quote="brimmer X" data-source="post: 1146119" data-attributes="member: 7228"><p>I have a story about my Grandpaw John. We grew up in the country and Grandpaw & Grandmaw lived about 150 yards from us. Grandmaw was a book keeper in town, Grandpaw took care of the farm, cattle and poultry. He also had a very impressive garden. I used to love walking barefooted behind him has he tilled. The good soft soil on your feet. </p><p></p><p>Every 7 to 8 weeks he cleaned the cake out of the chicken house after the chickens were picked up. He did this by hand with a spade on to a spreader. No skid steer or equipment to pick up the litter. During this break of no chickens, He and Grandmaw went on a vacation. They only went on 2 vacations while I was home. This one and another, that me and brother went with them. I was in high school then and did most all of the driving. This first vacation, I was probably 8 to 9 and my brother was 2 years younger.</p><p></p><p>Grandpaw left on vacation with old dried corn stalks in the garden. This was perfect opportunity to practice our swashbuckling skills. For us country folks, that is sword fighting. My brother and I took no prisoners. We wacked down every man, I mean stalk. Not one was left standing. We left thinking of the bountiful deed of ridding the garden of these unsightly stalks. </p><p></p><p>A day or so later Grandpaw comes over to the house. He wanted to know what in the world happened to his POP CORN. We had ridden Grandpaw of his pop corn by sword fighting. I appologized and he just looked at me a minute then walked off. He never mentioned that day again. </p><p></p><p>I have thought about this many times, and felt bad about it. But, our relationship was always good. On his death bed, he called in all the grandkids. I showed up with some fresh Arkansas peaches, probably his favorite desert. My sister told me after I left, Grandpaw asked, were there anymore of the peaches left. She said there sure was, so she cut one up and fed it to him. He told her, he never had whip or get on to me or my brother, and we were good boys. I was the oldest grand child he had, followed by my brother. That made me proud. Grandpa died one month and one day shy of his 92nd bithday in 2010.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="brimmer X, post: 1146119, member: 7228"] I have a story about my Grandpaw John. We grew up in the country and Grandpaw & Grandmaw lived about 150 yards from us. Grandmaw was a book keeper in town, Grandpaw took care of the farm, cattle and poultry. He also had a very impressive garden. I used to love walking barefooted behind him has he tilled. The good soft soil on your feet. Every 7 to 8 weeks he cleaned the cake out of the chicken house after the chickens were picked up. He did this by hand with a spade on to a spreader. No skid steer or equipment to pick up the litter. During this break of no chickens, He and Grandmaw went on a vacation. They only went on 2 vacations while I was home. This one and another, that me and brother went with them. I was in high school then and did most all of the driving. This first vacation, I was probably 8 to 9 and my brother was 2 years younger. Grandpaw left on vacation with old dried corn stalks in the garden. This was perfect opportunity to practice our swashbuckling skills. For us country folks, that is sword fighting. My brother and I took no prisoners. We wacked down every man, I mean stalk. Not one was left standing. We left thinking of the bountiful deed of ridding the garden of these unsightly stalks. A day or so later Grandpaw comes over to the house. He wanted to know what in the world happened to his POP CORN. We had ridden Grandpaw of his pop corn by sword fighting. I appologized and he just looked at me a minute then walked off. He never mentioned that day again. I have thought about this many times, and felt bad about it. But, our relationship was always good. On his death bed, he called in all the grandkids. I showed up with some fresh Arkansas peaches, probably his favorite desert. My sister told me after I left, Grandpaw asked, were there anymore of the peaches left. She said there sure was, so she cut one up and fed it to him. He told her, he never had whip or get on to me or my brother, and we were good boys. I was the oldest grand child he had, followed by my brother. That made me proud. Grandpa died one month and one day shy of his 92nd bithday in 2010. [/QUOTE]
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