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Another Phone Convo with Reverend Grandpa


Okay, one more sharing of funnies with my Grandpa and then I’ll get this blog back to the writing… 

Now, before anyone thinks I’m making fun, I’m not.  Oh, I would never do that.  I cherish these conversations because I knew he got a kick out of the exchanges, too.  Oh, and when he says he’s dying… he said this for the last sixteen years.  He was just ornery enough to use it to his advantage as much as possible. <g>

Here is a message he left on my answering machine once. 

“This is your grandpa.  Your good-looking grandpa.  I’m callin’ cause Rinda is before me.  The Lord keeps putting her before me.  Two days now so I’m calling to see what’s going on cause he won’t leave me alone about it.  I’m praying for her a lot.  I’ll send a bill.”

At the time, I hesitated to call back.  Why? Our last conversation three weeks before that message. <g>

“The lord is standing in my doorway staring at me.  He keeps pokin’ at me to call you.  Says you got a big problem.  You doing okay?’

“Yes Grandpa.”

“You guys found work?”

(We were not out of work, but Katrina had stopped a few clients and with this huge, nosy and superstitious family, rumors don’t just explode, they accumulate in a barrage of mini blasts that reach monstrous proportions!)

“We’re working on it, Grandpa.”

“Well the Lord will provide.  You need money?”

“No Grandpa.”

“Then send me some. I don’t have any.”

“I will when we get some clients.”

“You need an organ?”

“Uh, no.”

“I can give your husband a job building a crate for this organ.  I’ll pay for the gas if you all and the kids will come see me.  I’m dyin’ and I need company.”

“I wish we could come.  I do.  But the kids are in school.  Gas is expensive, Grandpa, and you said you didn’t have any money.”

“The Lord will provide.  About that crate…”

“My husband is a commercial developer, Grandpa.”

“Job’s a job.”

“I know.  Really I don’t know what you’ve heard, but we’re fine.  Where did you get the organ?”

“I bought it from Miss (?).  She wants to marry me.”

“All the ladies want to marry you, Grandpa.”

“It’s cause I’m so good-lookin’.”

“That you are.”

“About that organ…

“How did you buy an organ if you’re broke, Grandpa?”

“The lord provided.”



Reverend Grandpa loved candy.  It was all over the house and he filled his pockets with it until they bulged.  All you had to do as a kid, was run up and smile at him and he’d give you a handful.  Or… sometimes, those pockets had glitter in them and he’d throw it on you.  Said it was the holy ghost.

He traveled to South America several times and the stories are hilarious.  Introducing fishing poles and a dishwasher to people who’d never seen them.  Swimming in a river and having a bunch of people surround the thing yelling at him to get out.  The only word he understood was Piranha.

He always offered to perform weddings for my friends for two dollars.  The first time I remember him doing that, I was around seven years-old.  So were the friends. 

He always had false teeth and liked to take them out and chase the little ones. 

And his favorite thing to do?  Wait until the room was quiet or creep up behind you and yell “Praise the Lord” at the top of his lungs then laugh when you jump, scream… or pass out from fright. 

He did all these things with that teasing grin of his.  I think I’ll miss that the most. 🙂


  1. July 27, 2007    

    I’m so sorry to hear about your grandfather. These posts are brilliant, though. You could probably fill a blog with them.

  2. July 28, 2007    

    Thanks. 🙂 I could fill a blog with the entire family. It’s huge and full of very individual people. I save a lot of this stuff because I may do a book someday.

  3. July 28, 2007    

    What great photos! You look so much like your mother. The unique richness of the memories you have are such a wonderful thing. I have very few memories of my grandfathers.

  4. July 28, 2007    

    Memories play on, and I love that they do. I can still hear my grandpa proclaiming at the top of his lungs, (after my grandmother had tried to hide a not so dainty burp) “E*’s been hitting the Coors again.”

    I’m glad you get to keep his teasing grin.

  5. July 28, 2007    

    Oh, that’s funny, Heather!!!

    Hi Betty! Actually, that pic is of my grandmother. I will agree that it was lucky to have him around as long as I did. He was 87. 🙂

  6. July 28, 2007    

    A book would be fantastic! Even if it were just a personal book for family, at least it would be written down.

    Since you have posted these I have tried to remember things about my grandparents, I remember how they are, the things they did, but exact stories are missing. Maybe because I was young when they passed.

    I do remember my one grandpa let me alway do his hair, what there was of it. I would get a cup of water and his comb, he would sit down and I would get to make all sort of styles. Everyone would laugh at what I would come up with, but he thought is was great. I was his only granddaughter at the time.

    And I remember when he got mad he’d say ‘dad-gummit’, or when my brothers were up to something he would call them ‘bub’. I miss that.

  7. August 1, 2007    

    Oh, thanks for sharing this memory. My grandpa offered to let me do his hair once but I was really little and told him it made my fingers feel funny. LOL! He always greased it back.

  8. Julia Hinkle Julia Hinkle
    October 10, 2008    

    Dad was a hoot. He would have made a great Command Sargent Major in the Military, instead he was a pentcostal preacher. Dad loved to tease, eat candy and watch westerns.
    Before he passed over he lived in our home on the golf course. He loved to drive the golf cart, and he had two speeds, dead stop or wide open. Ha, ha and he used to compalin about Mom’s driving. Of course as the mini strokes came more frequently he was unable to take into he mind – new data. So warning him to stay off the golf course was futile. Once he walked out just as a man teed off the 15th hole. The ball missed the back of his head by one foot. My heart almost stopped. I said, “Dad, get off that green. That ball missed you by one foot.” His reply was, “I had plenty of room, I saw it.” Of course Dad marched angerily back into the house. I got blessed out by the terrified golfer who nearly had a heart attack as he watched his ball almost cold konk my Father’s head. But, that was Dad. he was independent as a hog on ice. He died that way. I miss him……

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