Don't forget to post your favorite memory of G. Heywood.
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13 comments:
great post! love it!
I have two favorite memories. First, one upon a Nacimiento trip we were sitting in the boat, with Grandpa at the wheel, when someone asked why he never waterskied. The next thing we know, he's peeling off his sweat pants and slipping into the water in shorts and a long-sleeve, button-up red shirt. He was jumping the wake and tearing it up. The next day he couldn't get out of bed and it was the only time I ever remember Grandpa having to "sit-one-out" while the rest of us went to the lake.
The second memory was with Brandi at the L.A. Temple. We were sitting in Grandpa and Grandma's little apartment there chatting away into the night. Grandpa then said, "Look around here. Everything we own in the world is basically right here in this little apartment. After a lifetime of living an exciting, eventful life, everything we own is right here. But then, that's not important, the accumulation of wealth. Realize what is important. That's what's important." And he pointed to the wall above the couch covered with pictures of all their kids, grandkids, and great-grandkids. He said, "Nothing else matters to us. We are surrounded by our family, and that's what's important."
Hey, John and Sunni, thanks for posting that. We'd wanted to see it after hearing about it. That was great.
I'll come back later with a favorite memory...
Jim and I had been dating for a short time when he invites me to Fontana to meet the "other" Heywoods.
We arrive to Grandpa and Rosie's house where a lot of young, old, and middle- age Heywoods were being really loud. Jim promptly left me, leaving me to my own devices. I was starving and had not eaten lunch because I was promised food, but no food was out yet. I guess they were still cooking.
Wandering around, I found this long table where this incredibly, grouchy old man was sitting at the other end. I sat down opposite him when I noticed a box of crackers and a bowl of ranch dressing sitting on the table.
My hunger got the best of me. I opened the crackers and started to dip them in the Ranch dressing.
The grumpy, old man watched me for a while then finally addressed me very seriously and without a hint of a smile.
"I've noticed that you're dipping your crackers into the Ranch dressing." his deep voice boomed.
"Yes, I am." Inside, this old man had me squirming. I was nervous wondering if I had eaten something really important...like communion crackers.
"I'm a psychologist and I don't like that!" he screeched. And I'm not exaggerating about the screeching part.
Here I paused. How do I respond to the grumpy old man? I never meet the man in my life and now he hates "how" I am eating. Jim ran through my mind. "This is one of Jim's relatives. Maybe I should just say sorry....... Naaa." There was something about the grumpy, old man that made me just a little reckless.
So I picked up another cracker, looking him dead in the eye and did it AGAIN. Slowly, I dipped my cracker in Ranch dressing and slowly I ate it.
The big, grumpy old man stared at me for a couple of seconds then BUST OUT LAUGHING.
Jim came in a few moments later and hugging the old man said- "Hey, grandpa"
That was my first introduction to the charm that only belonged to Grandpa Heywood and the beginning of a wonderful friendship with "the grumpy, old man."
Carrie
I can't count the number of times I've sat around a table with Grandpa dipping something into something and eating it.
He was cool. Is cool. He's probably dipping something right now and eating it.
I miss Grandpa a lot. I don't have great memories like you guys, but here is one anyways.
When I would go out to Hesperia when I was about 4 or 5 and we would go to church I'd see Grandpa. He would put me and my cousin Ashlynn on his knees. He'd laugh and play with us. I rember that he had skin hanging off of his neck and chin. Ashlynn and I would play with it and make it wobble. Our parents would tell us to stop, but Grandpa would make turkey noises and encourage us to keep going. He also had a chain that he would hook onto his shirt buttons. A gold one. He would make us play with it when our mom's said to stop playing with it.
I just remember that he always wanted me to be able to do anything I want, and he'd do it with me. If I started to roll in mud, I wouldn't be surprised if he joined me.
-Emma
I couldn't think of just one so here are a few memories:
Waking up to the smell of chocolate chip waffles… Hostess Ding Dongs… Listening to grandpa breathe while he would eat… Ovaltine before bed… Going on walks with Grandma and Grandpa dressed in their maroon jogging suits around the orange orchards and Finkbiner Park… A very short but unforgettable lecture to seven of us dirtball grandsons after a third toilet in the house was found unflushed… Hikes through the hills on Glendora mountain road… Being set up with girls who were working behind the counters of establishments we would frequent who were twice my age… Giving a powerful priesthood blessing with grandpa and two other grandsons to another one of his grandsons… Going with just G-pa and G-ma to Fiddler on the Roof the play… Summer beach trips where most of the time he’d wear his light blue jeans and a button up shirt… Charades and 31 in the Avalon Motel… Hearing the words “you did good!” or “Whatever your heart desires!”… Building the deck… Sitting around the table playing animal, vegetable, or mineral.
Scott
I remembered one more cool one: Several years ago I was in the LA temple looking for grandpa who was working there. The temple president saw me wandering and asked if he could help me with anything. I told him I was looking for my grandpa so I could say hi and get a smooch. The temple president escorted me up to some room I’d never seen before and grandpa was there dressed in his white suit. When he saw me he got that huge smile on his face that he would make when he saw any of his grandchildren. He came over and I got a big hug and the smooch I’d come for. We talked for a minute and then parted ways. The temple president escorted me back down to the area of the temple that I was familiar with but on the way mentioned several times that the interaction between me and grandpa was amazing and beautiful.
Then on a later visit to grandma and grandpa’s apartment at the temple, grandpa mentioned that the temple president had said the same thing to him on several different occasions. Grandpa later told me that when the temple president gave him that full-time genealogy calling that had been created just for him, the call had been influenced by the feeling that the temple president had had while watching the interaction that grandpa had with his grandson that day in the temple. There was more cool stuff but I forgot a bunch of it but I always thought that was pretty cool.
Scott
True dat.
All my memories of grandpa involve me at a young age. I can remember quite clearly how comfortable it felt to sit on his lap with my head against his chest(probably wearing a silky plaid button-up)while he sat in his black recliner. If I close my eyes I can still remember vividly falling asleep on grandpa's lap while watching murder she wrote.
-Eric
-Eric
When the posting is all finished, someone ought to copy these and give them to Grandma. John
Grandpa eating a banana. It is truly amazing. I tried it not once, but twice and failed both times. Peel banana, insert banana into mouth. Eat banana without using hands. Oh, and all this while heavy breathing through the nostrils.
At his funeral, the only story I told that brought that flood of emotion that makes it hard to continue without blubbering, was this one: In high school I was a mediocre high jumper on the track team. The sawdust high jump pit was on the far end of the field near a 12-foot high fence that enclosed the school. Every home track meet, Dad would leave work, park on the street, get out of his car, and stand outside the fence. I remember him standing there in his suit; he was only there to watch me. When the high jump event was over, he'd get in his car and go back to work. During that time of my life I don't ever remember him verbally telling me that he loved me, but I knew that's what he was saying as he stood outside a school fence in his suit watching me leap over a metal bar into a sawdust pit. Larry
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