Monkey Blood, Sky Monkeys and Strawberry Cake

Have you ever been a pall bearer? I have. A couple of times. Let me let you in on a little secret, there's a reason they have a separate car for the pall bearers. It's because somehow, some way, there's always one pall bearer that breaks the tension with a joke of some sort. Next thing you know, we're all laughing. I think it's a byproduct of the tension. Today, one of the pall bearers said "You know, if Uncle 'Ne (Gramps) had been in charge of this, there would have been an ice chest with beer in it waiting for us in this car. I can hear him now 'I don't want y'all to get thirsty!' Of course, he wouldn't want us to drop him, so there'd only be one beer for each of us." This was only so funny because it's true.

Gramps had a mischievous sense of humor. He'd often joke about things that more serious folks would think were inappropriate. Which is why I couldn't help but laugh a little to myself at a few things during his funeral. I know he was laughing, too. For instance, when the priest was discussing Gramps's work with the Boy Scouts at the St. Peter - St. Joseph home. The priest said "All those orphans ... probably without fathers...." Huh? Probably? And when the priest was blessing Gramps's coffin, he had to step into the manger from the nativity scene to get all the way around it. At one point, someone commented on the good turn out. I could just hear Gramps saying "I'm surprised so many people showed up. I thought most of those people were dead by now." That's Gramps, though. He had a wicked sense of humor. The kind that made people say "Gramps!"

I'm sure going to miss him. He told me the meaning of life was strawberry cake. He taught me to drive the tractor and how to drive a column shift truck. He gave me a love of the outdoors, taught me about ranching and baling hay and the satisfaction of working hard. He took me fishing, to a cattle auction, and swimming in the stock tank. He gave me a hair cut outside on the back patio. He taught me how to thump a watermelon to see if it's ripe. When I was little, when I scraped my knee, he put betadine on it and called it monkey blood. When the fog was so thick you couldn't see the top of the Tower of the Americas, he told me that sky monkeys had bitten it off. When I was a kid and we'd take a nap together, somehow I always managed to put my foot in his mouth. He was my Scoutmaster, baby sitter, first aid, teacher, and friend. But most of all, he was my Gramps.