Friday, September 2, 2011

I love Dick Cheney.

I always have.

Not just because La Petite Belle, as a young child, would call and talk to him on her play phone and refer to him as her "other daddy," or because of his extreme intelligence, but mostly because He reminds me of one of the most precious men in my life ... my granddaddy.
(That's me next to him on the couch ... the only picture I have. As you can see,  I really need to find some better pictures.)

Oh, how I miss that man. He was most awesome!

My best memories as a child include him.

He would take me out with him to feed the cattle or just go out to the barn. Grandma would pack biscuits for the "long walk" which was actually just across the street. 

He would take me on walks. Lots and lots of walks to see the nail in the road that marked the edge of his  property.

He would take me with him to the full-service gas station and buy me Coke in the bottle and Pop Rocks. Wow. I'm surprised my stomach didn't burst. Isn't that what happens when you drink Coke and Pop Rocks? He'd also buy me Big Red cola. Pure red joy!

He smoked a pipe. I love, love, love the smell of a pipe probably because of him. I still picture him leaning on the mantle, near his massive library of history books, puffing away at that pipe.

So, actually this post wasn't about Dick Cheney at all. 

My granddaddy was the best!

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