Tag Archives: grandparents

The Brick

I bought a house.  Way ahead of schedule for what my original plans were.  I thought it would be at least a couple more years before I was in a position to buy, but sometimes things work out.  It’s a great house, built in 1972, and had only one owner until I bought it last month.  The gentleman that bought the house almost 50 years ago passed away in January.  It does need a few minor things taken care of, but it got a brand-new roof and a complete electrical re-wire before closing.  The seller was extremely accommodating in selling the house she grew up in.

The move was a huge pain, not fun.  The closing had to be moved back a week, so I was worried about getting out of the condo I was renting by the time I said I would.  On top of that, Hurricane Sally was approaching the Gulf Coast.  And to make matters more stressful for me, I was the on-call guy at work for the week that my closing got pushed to.  We got our stuff moved in just before the weather deteriorated, all while working in between moving loads of stuff from one place to another.  And then the storm hit.  I worked a total of 17 days in a row.  I haven’t even come close to getting settle in yet at my new home.  But, I’m here, and I’m happy.  Things will fall into place as they will.  No hurry.

During my move I found many memories while packing.  It’s amazing to find stuff you haven’t seen in years and relive old times while going through closets and boxes.  One thing I found was a brick.  Just a simple, red brick.  It has no monetary value.  It’s not pretty or decorative.  But it might be the last one left of the bricks that were part of my grandparents’ house which was destroyed by Hurricane Katrina in 2005.  They had already sold that house at the end of Beach Bayou Rd in Biloxi, Mississippi years before, but my childhood memories of it still remained.

Grandma had all the Tupperware you would expect in a house during that era.  She had a tan sugar dish with a lid that opened on both sides.  Open one side and it pours out from a small hole; the other side was big enough to put a spoon in.  Of course, she had the orange pitcher with the push down lid.  Is Tupperware even a thing anymore?  Grandpa had a music room where he composed.  I don’t know if he did his paintings in there as well, or just his music.  I have all his music somewhere in a box that hasn’t been unpacked yet.  I always loved his music.  I have a number of his paintings as well, at least one of which is already hanging here at my new house. 

From when I was a child visiting my grandparents’ house, I can remember looking at the stars with my uncle out in the yard and him taking me on the water in his blue fiberglass boat; only time I’ve caught a shark.  I remember my aunt and cousins living in the next house up the road.  We had way too much fun as kids jumping ditches up and down the street.  Grandma would always fuss at us for that because of the snakes in the ditches.  We never got bit.  I remember the times my sister and I would spend the night at the red brick house on the bayou.  So many wonderful memories.  And all that’s left from that house is a brick. 

In 1969, Hurricane Camille devastated the Mississippi Coastal area.  At that time, it was one of the most intense hurricanes to make U.S. landfall.  It was a Category 5 storm. Camille brought 7 ½ feet of water into my grandparents’ home.  When the water receded and the sun came out, they cleaned and rebuilt.  As far as fixing the damage to their home, they left only the watermark in the detached laundry room as a reminder of how high the water had come.  Basically, their house was underwater except for the roof.  In 2005, when I finally got through on the phone to my grandparents after Katrina, I asked how it compared to Camille.  My grandfather told me Katrina made Camille look like an afternoon thunder storm. 

My first opportunity to go to Biloxi after Katrina was in early in 2007, for my grandfather’s funeral.  While there, I took my oldest boy and explored the area, giving him a glimpse into an early childhood chapter of my life.  We went by the old house on Beach Bayou Rd.  As we drove down to where the road disappears into the bayou, I couldn’t see the house.  It was gone.  Only the foundation and a few bricks that still made a small corner of the house remained.  I wanted to cry.  It was all gone.  Only the memories remain. 

I took a brick that day.  I still have it.  It just sits on a window sill in my bedroom at my new home.  It’s place at the condo I moved from was on the window sill in my bedroom there.  Before that, it was on the very top of a small wall unit in my now ex-wife’s house.  There’s no elaborate display for it.  No fancy case.  No markings as to where it came from or how it got here.  It’s just a brick.  But it’s all that’s left from some of my most cherished childhood memories.  It mostly stays of sight, I barely notice it’s there.  Most days I don’t even think about it. 

Maybe our memories are like that brick.  Out of sight, out of mind.  Then once in a while we notice.  Something prompts us to take a walk down memory lane.  Hopefully good memories, but it can go both ways.  I hope your memories are like my brick, mostly good.  Thanks for enjoying my memories with me today.  Good day, God bless.

Dave

Papillon

When I was a young boy, back in the late ‘70s, I would sometimes get to stay up late and watch television with my grandfather.  I was seven or eight years old, so staying up late for me might not have been as late as I’ve pictured it in my mind all these years.  The two-car garage had been converted to a den many years before.  It was large room with a couch, two recliners, an antique rocking chair, liquor cabinet, and a safe hidden in the wall above the two recliners.  The safe had a picture frame cover, but to my knowledge, never had a picture in it.  I have some wonderful memories from my childhood of that house, specifically that room. 

We watched many episodes of Baa Baa Black Sheep, sports, news, and sometimes he’d give up his rights to the television and we’d watch Wonderful World of Disney.  Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom was always a favorite.  But one movie we stayed up late to watch one night that has been stuck in my head for more than 40 years was Papillon.  Steve McQueen and Dustin Hoffman, 1973.  Maybe because it was supposedly based on a true story and, as a child, I found that fascinating.  A true story of a French prison and how the convicted survived and one eventually escaped to write about it.  For whatever reason, I loved that movie.  I don’t think I’ve seen it since I was eight or nine years old. 

Grandpa would sit in his recliner smoking a pipe or cigar.  I would be laid out on the couch, often times falling asleep during our TV time.  I remember grandma occasionally sitting in her recliner crocheting.  I don’t remember if she was interested in what we were watching, unless it was basketball.  She was a huge basketball fan.  She played in her younger years, I heard she was very good. 

The reason for this flood of childhood memories is that I recently found Papillon in the free On-demand section of my cable subscription.  Just seeing the title brought back details of my grandparent’s den.  The lighting, the smell of pipe tobacco, the texture of the carpet, the sliding glass door that lead to the driveway, the utility room where the washer and dryer sat, the rear door which exited to the back patio and wonderful back yard.  And of course, the shows we used to watch.  I wonder where the old rocking chair is.  I would have loved to have that. 

I made some pizza rolls and opened a beer.  Then I started the movie.  Some of what I remember from it 40+ years ago was exactly correct.  But that wasn’t very much.  I only remembered parts of a few of the scenes.  Watching it again brought a whole new appreciation for an absolutely spectacular movie.  McQueen and Hoffman were incredible.  They made their characters seem real, believable.  No special effects, no computer-generated imaging.  Just great actors perfecting their craft; something that has been lost in film today. 

In watching Papillon in present day, I am certain the movie was edited for television when I watched it with grandpa way back when. 

One of the scenes I remember visually, I had no recollection of the context because I couldn’t remember what was said.  It was a dream sequence where Papillon (McQueen) walks towards his judge.  The judge was flanked on each side by six men wearing black.  In their exchange, Papillon continues to claim he was framed for his accused crime of murder.  The judge admits that to be true, but adds that he is in fact guilty of a far worse crime, the worst crime any human can commit. Papillon asks what that could be.  The judge says, “I accuse you of a wasted life!”  Papillon agrees, hangs his head, then walks away.

I would have been too young to understand the context of that conversation at the time, perhaps that’s why I don’t remember it.  But now, nearing 50 years old, that spoke to me as I watched again.  I know I’ve wasted time.  I’ve wasted money.  I’ve wasted food, words, energy, and so much more if I am completely honest examining my past.  But one thing I am certain of, I can never be accused of a wasted life.  There are many things I should have done differently in my life.  There are things I regret, both things I did and things I didn’t do.  But as I look back and see where I am today, what I’ve survived, what I’ve overcome, I say confidently, that mine is not a wasted life. 

Only you can examine your life and decide if you wasted it.  Only you know exactly what you’ve been through and how you got to where you are currently.  Your mistakes do not define you.  At some point you move on from them and, if necessary, start over.  Some of my mistakes consumed me to the point of feeling like a failure, like a complete waste.  There were multiple occasions in my life I would have hung my head and walked away as Papillon did.  Not anymore. 

Life goes on.  And life is good.  And I’m not wasting it.  I hope you don’t either.  Thanks for stopping by today.  Good day, God bless.

Dave