I sat at the table with my Great Grampa Johnson and listened to him tell me about how to drink coffee. He had a small cup and a saucer. He explained slowly as he dribbled a small bit of his black coffee into his saucer that “it’ll cool off faster like this”. He raised the saucer to his lips and slurped it up. He didn’t spill it. He sat the saucer down with the cup in it and smiled at me, satisfied he’d passed on that bit of knowledge. I smiled back, unsure of what I’d do with the new information. I was probably about six, or seven, years old. I had at least a decade before I could even use it. I’m fifty three now and still haven’t seen the need. The real gift was the memory. That small amount of time gave me a picture of he and I, at least. I have so few of him. I wish I’d paid closer attention. I didn’t know I had so little time. He did. I’m sure of it.
Grampa Johnson lived in Heber Springs, Arkansas with his two daughters. He was my dad, Wayne Stone’s, grandfather. My Great Aunt’s, Aunt Opal and Aunt Jane, ran a boarding house in town, across from a city park. The town was known for it’s spring water. Actually it’s mineral water. It’s supposed to have healing properties. The park had two access areas for mineral water. You could get it right out of a spigot inside a couple of open sided concrete and brick structures at the park. The only qualities I’m certain that the water had was the foul stench and taste. I can’t speak to the healing part, since I could never get past those two to try it. My brother and sisters and I used to go across the street to the park to play when we visited. The place was definitely old-school. The merry go round was that steel behemoth that took a long time to get to going fast, then a longer time to get to stop. I learned how to fly on that thing. First place I ever got a hangover. Didn’t even drink. I just lay down in the middle of the spinning merry go round and stared up at the sky while somebody pushed it till it everything was a blur and they couldn’t catch a handhold long enough to push. A lot of bumps, bruises and probably concussions happened on that thing. I loved it. That was real fun.
Grampa Johnson had a day bed in the front room of the house. He lounged there, spitting chewing tobacco juice into an old brass spittoon. That’s like a cuspidor, except it ain’t in a fancy place like a four star hotel, or a brothel. It always kind of amazed me that Grampa was allowed to spit in the house, even into a dedicated receptacle. My momma would never have gone for that.
I recall the screen doors in the boarding house. They were of the old, homemade variety. A long, rusty spring attached to the middle brace of the wooden door, and the other end attached to the door jam. When it opened, the creak stretched out noisily. Then rude children, like me, would let the door go like the nonchalant cowboy I was, confident that the wooden screen door would be pulled closed by the spring. It was. Loudly. That kind of thing would have irritated the crap out of me today. I guess Grampa was used to it. Or maybe he was just glad to see kids in the house. I sincerely hope I can be that loving and patient when I’m that old. Or deaf. Either would work.
My Aunt Jane and Opal canned preserves. My favorite was bread and butter pickles. Those were the best pickles I’d ever tasted before, or since. Their kitchen was big and white and full of light. At least that’s how I remember it. It made me feel comfortable. Maybe it was the food, but I think it was Aunt Jane’s big smile and kind voice that did it. Those two sisters took care of their daddy and put a lot of love into it. They were very special ladies. I wish that I’d known them better, because they were worth knowing.
That’s not a lot of memories for the Grandfather I knew. If we knew how quickly time steals people from us, we’d get to know people better. Or at least I hope we would. I’d blame it on youth, but in reflection I’m afraid that I’m not much better at spending time with my extended family now than I was then. I’m resolved to try harder. There’s a lot of people in my family that I’d love to get to know. Especially the one’s I grew up with. Let’s all do that.
I love you guys.
Rolling Stones 
This is exactly how I remember it! Love you!
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Love you too, Sis!
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