Granddad died when I was four. I don't have a lot of memories of him, but I have a few.
I remember once he was staying with us, and he had the small bedroom next to mine (we eventually ripped out the wall between them and merged them into a single room). I remember getting up early in the morning to go visit Granddad in his room (which I'm sure he appreciated). He would start the day with his pills: he'd open a pill bottle and take a handful of various tablets: I assume he put all his prescriptions in a single bottle for ease of travel. There were always peppermints in that handful, so he would take out "my pills" and give them to me, then take his own.
I was in my twenties before I realized he had to have put peppermints in his pill bottle beforehand so he could share them with us kids.
Granddad used to shave with me too: he would shave with his electric shaver, then I would.
I'm sure he had his warts, but from a four-year-old's perspective, Granddad was pretty cool.
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An example of the best stories.
My Grandpaw Ward always had a stick of clove gum. You'd sit down and chew that gum while he told his funny stories from the days of growing up poor.
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