Out of the Frying Pan

Good Morning, Grandpa

In the morning, I was the first one up, or that’s what I thought. As I stepped out into the parlor, I could smell breakfast cooking. No matter how I tried, I couldn’t get up before Grandpa would. I went carefully back into the bedroom and made my bed as quietly as I could so I wouldn’t wake the others. This meant I had Grandpa all to myself, even if for just a little while.

I brought my clothes out and set them on a chair in the parlor. Still in my pajamas, I headed for the kitchen. As I came through the door, I could see my grandpa using a fork, moving a piece of ham around in an old cast iron skillet.

“Good morning, Grandpa,” I said.

He chuckled and answered back, “Good morning, young man. You’re always the first up, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed like you were gonna miss something if you didn’t.”

“Yes, sir,” I replied.

He just chuckled, not even looking my way, and said, “Well go on, look out the back door window and tell me what you see.”

I scurried over to the back door and peered out. The lighting was perfect, between the sun coming up and the moon going down. I gazed out at what had been green pastures last time I was here and saw that they were now covered with a blanket of pure white snow, clean and smooth. Remembering something my grandpa had said the night before, I quickly looked over at the barbed wire fence. There appeared to be about four inches of snow on top and about six inches of snow on the post tops. Even to this day, I don’t understood quite how snow could build upon that puny wire, but it does at times.

I turned to my Grandpa and said, “Wow, there must be another half a foot of snow from last night.”

“Yes,” he said as he turned and placed the cooked ham on a plate in the center of the table. “You like the snow, don’t you?”

“Yes sir,” I replied, “there’s something about it, makes things look different. Cleaner.”

Again he chuckled and said, “There’s a reason for it, whether it’s deep or not, there’s always a reason.” He always said that, no matter what the weather. If there was a drought, he’d say there was a reason for it, if it rained heavy, he’d say there was a reason for it. Instead of complaining like most people might, he just accepted that the elements were a part of nature and God knew what he was doing.

“Now you go and get yourself cleaned up and ready for breakfast.”

“Yes sir.” I left the kitchen, got my clothes from the parlor, and headed for the bathroom. I hurried up and got myself ready and came back as quick as I could.

I found Grandpa sitting down at the table with his hand around his coffee cup. When he saw me, he smiled and said, “Well, it seems like them brothers of yours need a little persuading getting up.” He got up from the table and walked into the parlor area and I could hear him from the kitchen as his usual calm voice changed into a gruff voice of authority.

“Git outta that bed, you got folks waitin on you,” he barked.

Almost instantly, I could hear the thumping and mumbling start. Grandpa came back with a stern look that changed to a grin when he looked at me. He was just sitting back down at the table when in walked Lenny and Lanny with cowlicks all over their heads, wiping their eyes and staggering like they had been drinking from a jug of shine. Grandpa put his hand up by his cheek in order to block his grin from their view and waited.

They each managed a mumbling slur of “Good morning, Grandpa.”

He answered them back with a morning greeting followed by “Go and get yourself ready to eat.”

As they headed out to get ready, Grandpa spoke up again and said, “No pushing or shoving to see who gets there first, ya hear?” He paused for a moment and barked out, “Ya hear me?”

They replied, “Yes, sir” and their mumbling voices trailed off to the bathroom. Boy, does he know them or what? I thought. They finally came back, looking almost human-like, and took their place at the table.

Grandpa always said grace and kept it simple: “Thank you for bringing us together and in health. Thank you for what we have and making a way for us to have it. Amen.” I couldn’t hardly wait to dig in, there was ham and sausage right from his smokehouse, and eggs, well I think you know where they come out of, and a big pile of flap jacks. Boy, now that’s eating. After we were finished with the meal, he told Mutt and Jeff to go make their beds and “Don’t mess up your brother’s neither.”

When they came back, we got dressed to face the cold, and out to the barn we headed.