One of my favorite drawings ever was born in college. Discobunny! I found the original sketch in my tiny old sketchbook. Pages are falling apart, yellowed, stained with age and love. I’m making a baby quilt for a DJ friend. I found the disco ball fabric on Spoonflower a couple of years ago. Then I created the Discobunny fabric. It’s going to be super cute…super Discobunny boogie cute! I might even hand quilt it in purple metallic thread. Maybe.
My thankful thoughts continue because Papa takes me to breakfast every Friday morning. We used to go to J. Christopher, but then they changed it into a First Watch (turkey sausage? I don’t think so.). We defected to Another Broken Egg Cafe. The food is divine and Monica is our fave new server. I’m beyond appreciative that I have the rare honor and pleasure of spending two days a week with Bam and Papa, my loving grandparents. I’ll write a thank you for Bam soon, since today is about Papa.
I spent a lot of my childhood at their home in Jonesboro, especially Friday nights. He’d bring Weyman’s Chick-full-A home for us, (M&Ms for me) and sit back on the couch having a Jack Daniels while I watched GLOW (gorgeous ladies of wrestling…wha, what!). Idyllic, right?
On trips to VMI, Callaway Gardens or Saint Simon’s, I’d ride in the caddy on the HoJo seat between him and Bam (the HoJo seat was the armrest between the driver and passenger seat. And yes, this was well before child safety seat and seat belt laws were realized. I’m Jo, by the way.) He’d buy me toy motorcycles (despite being slightly puzzled that I’d choose that over a Barbie) and took me to Toys R’ Us on the day it opened (we waited in line for HOURS to get a Lite Brite).
I was the first grand child, so I guess I got a little spoiled until Donnie arrived almost 7 years later, but Papa has always been sweet and thoughtful with us. We love his sense of humor and his calm demeanor (though Mom swears it took being a grandfather to be that way).
Papa manages to diffuse cantankerous situations between the cousins, well, me and Gene. A few years ago, at the beach, I was pissed off at my baby brother for leaving the sun roof on my mother’s SUV open all night in a fierce storm. The electrical system was fried and the interior drenched and smelly. As I kept dogging Gene for the mistake, amid his denials, Papa took us both by the shoulders on either side of him and drew us in close. He whispered to us, “Bo, you could fuck up a wet dream”. We both started laughing and all the frustration fell away.
There aren’t enough people who get to really know and enjoy their grandparents. For that, I’m so thankful for my papa. I do love him so.