Toyomafia - The Clubhouse. 151.880

That reminds me of a depression era, grandpa story I have to share. We’re heading out to hunt the wild mushroom now…

 

Oh yeah, then there's my grandpa who took a tumble down a hill, landed on his head and walked around for a couple weeks bitching about a sore neck. He finally let grandma take him to the hospital and they found out he had broken his neck. 6 months in one of those halo head brace things and he was back on the ice in the old timer's hockey league, throwing shoulders with the best of them.

 

These stories are why I look forward to getting old. Old men DGAF.

 

Excellent! I hope my grandson remembers the adventures I'm taking him on! He's pretty young tho...

 

WTF! Ha!

 

Yep. I intend to be the most ornery, stubborn, irreverent and biggest pain the ass old man ever.

Right!? He's in his mid 80's now and still plays ice hockey and tosses hay bales.

This is the same grandpa who has used his 12ga shotgun to wage war on moles for the last 20 years. He keeps his main lawn like a putting green, literally 1/8" long and perfectly green. Moles tend to fuck yards up so he traps them. However, sometimes he gets annoyed at the moles avoiding his traps and digging new tunnels. He'll see a new hump or molehill, so he'll go pack it down a bit. This caves in the tunnel and the mole will come back to clear it out. Grandpa will grab his shotgun, a garden trowel and a "sitting bucket" as he calls it then head over and sit right beside it. He'll be super still and quiet, watching that flatted hill like a hawk. Once the dirt starts to move and he's pretty sure the mole is directly underneath...BLAM!!! He'll dig the dead mole up, show it off to anyone who happens to be around and then stuff the dead mole back into the tunnel "as a warning" before flattening the dirt out and reseeding it with grass.

 

He will. Pretty much 100% of my good childhood memories are from my time with him. I was blessed to have him in my life. He was the only adult I could count on growing up.

 

"Ma, my next is a bit sore." F**k...heh...heh

 

I’ve got another great one but not sure I can share it without getting in trouble on the site.

 

Manny has watched me de-feather and gut two grouse. Going back "up" to get some more Sunday morning. He de-feathers the next one. Not sure if he's up to gutting yet. We shall see!

 

Run it by a Mod first...

 

The Mod that likes you....heh

 

I think one still does……

 

Manny has been the Waterport nozzle operator to clean the blood off my hands and rinse off the birds before they get bagged up and go in the cooler.
That Waterport is worth it when hunting. Prolly the best camping item I've ever purchased.

 

Friday poll!

 

Pressurizing the Waterport now.

 

My grandpa loved card games. Didn't matter what it was. Poker, pitch, cribbage, go fish ect. He'd always play with us grand kids. He'd lose his pants off all the time, probably on purpose. Then he'd turn his hat sideways and bill up a bit and declare this is the championship game when starting a new game. He'd promptly whoop our asses.

I lived less than a half mile from him. I'd always go clean up his yard and mow it for him. He'd come out putting on his gloves and I'd tell him not to worry about it, I got this. He'd give me the eye and ask, "you eat?" Of course the answer was always no. He'd go inside and make me meals. He was a great cook. Made some of the best hamburgers I've ever had.

My favorite story isn't something I witnessed, but a story my grandma told me about him. They were at a bar with a friend and some guys were being rude and disrespectful. Grandpa didn't put up with it and got into a brawl with them. Grandma looked at their friend and asked if he was going to help. "Hell, there's only 3 of them, Joe's got this." My grandpa had bigger arms than I have legs today. He was a logger and a forest service guy. Tough as nails with a soft heart. He raised 6 kids. 4 weren't his. But he never treated them any different. I've always said, if I could be half the man he is, I'd still be a great man. I miss him dearly.

 

Sounds like a hell of a man.

 

He was. Had a rough childhood in Wisconsin. His mom died and his father remarried. They took better care of stepmother's children than him and his brother. They grew up in Wisconsin on a dairy farm. He moved to the PNW in his 20's. He was a Pollock, and loved Pollock jokes. He had a great sense of humor. He never missed a game. Kids and grandkids.

My dad recently found his compass he used in the forest service. It's now in my hunting pack.

 

As long as I stay negative, I could be having 10-14 Fridays.

 

I want one.

 

My parents were older when I was born, so I only had a natural grandmother and a step grandfather. So this is really about my dad.

My father was born in Philadelphia. He had one sister. When he was 6 years old his father died in an industrial accident. When his mother remarried the asshole she married wouldn't keep a male child that wasn't his. So my dad was sent to be raised on a farm on the eastern Shore of Maryland. From what I was told it sounds like indentured servitude. It was around 1920.
When he was 17 he dropped out of school and joined the navy. After the asshole died, I never called him grandpa, neither my dad's sister nor his half brother, who they kept, would take my grandmother in. My dad did. She lived with us about five years, until she died. I guess things were different 100 years ago.

 

Is that good or bad???

 

I was raised by my mother and stepdad, so my grandpa was actually my step grandfather. He was the opposite of yours though. I was already four years old when they got married and I’d been bounced around a ton in my short time on earth. You never would have known I wasn’t his blood though. He accepted me and loved me from day one. He was the first stable thing I’d ever had in my life, and it stayed that way until I was grown. Cheers to your dad for doing what was right, regardless of what he’d been through.

 

https://youtu.be/XE9lhjfbCJo

 

He will. I remember cleaning squirrels and rabbits and opening fish guts to see what they were eating at that age. And I did the same with my kids. Now one of my daughters has a degree in biology.

 

That's pretty cool. Growing up on a WI dairy farm will toughen anyone up - my grandpa had one outside Green Bay up until he was killed on it (got pulled through the swather trying to get it unstuck, while my grandma was on the tractor). My dad and all 7 brothers are hard working and love to rough-house. Family reunions are guaranteed to end in a friendly mud fight/brawl of some sort.

And the compass has to be awesome!

 

F'ing awesome