Last Saturday I spent the whole day outside in Nelson County at The Festy. It's a three-day event and lots of people camp out, but Patrick and I just went for the day. It was a great fall day to hang out with friends and listen to music. The headlining act was a joint concert with Lyle Lovett and John Hiatt. It was just the two of them and their guitars taking turns singing songs. Between the beautiful scenery and crisp fall air and awesome music I was really happy. I even leaned over and told Patrick that the music and scenery combo were making me really happy.
So he was pretty confused a few songs later when he realized I was basically sobbing.
Somewhere in there among all the happiness I started to think about camping. And for me, thinking about camping naturally flows into thinking about my grandparents. And thinking about my grandparents made me think about how my Grandmother had just died a couple weeks before. She was eighty-nine, and had been married to Granddad for seventy-one years. I hadn't cried since her funeral on September 29, but I sure couldn't stop the tears for a few Lovett and Hiatt tunes.
Growing up in Santa Fe, Grandmother and Granddad lived across town. We would see them for holidays, birthdays, and special events; they came to all my recitals and concerts; and in the summer we'd eat cake and ice cream in their backyard. Since we lived in the same town, I very rarely stayed with them overnight or for really extended periods. But just about every summer for several years they took my brother and me camping for a few days at a time. Those were the times that I felt like I really got to know them.
On our camping trips Granddad and Ryan always fished. I tried fishing several times but never caught anything and didn't like spending all that time sitting around dealing with bugs, so eventually I started staying in camp with Grandmother. We'd clean up the breakfast dishes, read and chat, and prepare the next meal for when the "menfolk" returned. Later all four of us would go for a hike. At night we'd sit around a campfire, or if it rained we'd sit in the camper and play triominoes by lantern-light.
Grandmother taught me how to roast the perfect marshmallow. I always think of her when I roast one. I hope I always do.
Thursday, October 15, 2015
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