Memoirs

Of my grandparents. As I get older and think of family more, I often remember how amazing my late grandparents were.

Grandma Young--you were always taking us to do new things. Ice skating, gardening, walking at the park... we never got bored with you. You knew so much about both the plants you tended and the people you loved. You taught us that if we ever got stuck in the wild, we could eat day lilies and "tissue weed". Mom wasn't so sure about all that, but I thought it was great. Flint and steel. I remember standing in your garden, snapping your sweet peas off the vines and tasting them in the summer. I remember dancing in circles swinging from the rotating clothesline in your backyard, filled with glee that my sister and I were not getting caught. You told us how you used to have lilac growing on the side facing your neighbor's home, but that Dad had been allergic as a child and could not have it around. I imagined what it would be like to grow up in your house, grow up in an impossible time warp. I'll never forget how graceful and wise you were before you died. Unwavering faith radiated from you and struck my father with its peace. I will always remember how warm you were, and how much you loved your grandchildren.

Grandad Cobourn--the founder of The Tough Club. When I had my first surgery at age nine, you told me that I was tougher than anything and would get through it. I was the charter member of the tough club, and I could eat as many mini Snickers bars as I wanted when I went to your shop in the garage. I remember holding the ends of your "bolo ties" and looking up as you told me stories. You always wore dark jeans and what I thought of as cowboy shirts. You also took us for walks, and took us camping in your Coachmen RV with Grandma. You always had answers... if you didn't know something, you would imagine something instead: the 'tiswood tree. You told us scary stories, held us when we were little, let us watch Charlie Brown, and smiled at us. I remember watching you teach my baby brother how to drill a hole with a hand drill turned by a crank. I remember you cooking amazing hamburgers for us in the backyard at your last house. Seeing you become sick broke our hearts, but it taught me inexpressible truths even at my age of 10. I will always remember your tall smile and your enduring outlook, and all of the things we did together for fun.

Love you both.