Fine and Dandy and Sweet as Candy

Geriatrics say the darndest things! One of them we know probably knew Papa better than anyone. Last night on a little roadtrip to Clarksville, I asked Papa’s bride of 67 years if she knew what holiday was coming up next month in February. Though her memory and her medicine failed her as she tried to answer so many other questions…that one she knew. “Valentine’s Day,” she answered with confidence in her voice.

Before I could even finish the next question, “Who is your Valentine?” she blurted, “Papa.”

Now before you get all warm and fuzzy, I should tell you her response to my next little inquisition. “Granny, how did you know that Papa was the one you wanted to marry?”

Her eyes got as big as the washers in Papa’s homemade yard game as she exclaimed, “I don’t know! I didn’t! That might have been a mistake!” Granny clearly doesn’t understand the “LOL” of language today, but she sure had me “laughing out loud” 67 years later with that one!

We started talking about Valentine’s Day and the gifts they used to give each other. She said he liked candy…ANY kind of candy. Perhaps that is why his trademark reply became, “FINE AND DANDY AND SWEET AS CANDY,” whenever he was asked how he was doing. She repeated that phrase a couple times, and then she ever so seriously reported that she believes he ate an awful lot of it.

“So, he had quite a sweet tooth, huh, Granny? Did he ever sneak any sweets?”

“Yes! Pecan Pie!”

“How did you know?”

“Because pieces would be missing!” She laughed a little at that one herself.  To this day, she probably doesn’t know about the snacks he hid for himself in the garage or under the seat of the car. If anyone here today is hungry for a peanut butter cracker or a 7-Up, I think some of us might know where we can find one.

“Granny, what was the BEST gift Papa ever gave you?”

“My wedding ring, I guess.” That was when I struck geriatric conversational gold! She could recall no detail about that wedding other than the fact that it was “just a little simple wedding.”

            That little simple wedding she mentioned soon lent itself to a simple country life. Papa was a proud man who believed in dressing up for company. He valued shiny shoes and even shinier cars. When left to his ordinary days that became his ordinary months and years, though, he filled them with simple little things.

“Granny, what were some of the most fun things you remember you and Papa doing?”

She couldn’t mention a fabulous vacation…there were none. No extravagant adventures.  No expensive dates on the town. Her eyes lit up, though, as she said, ”We picnicked in the yard.”

“What else?”

“We worked in the garden.”  From there we recalled each tomato and potato and peanut plant. She chuckled again telling me how he would try to dig up those peanuts with a shovel, and I think there was a vivid picture memory in her mind as she did….probably of her staring out the back kitchen window at him and laughing at his attempts.

            “What’s the secret to staying married for 67 years?”

            “I don’t know. Just lucky I guess. We spent a lot of time together.”

            “Did Papa ever do anything to make you mad?”

            “Why yes!”

            “Like what?”

           

            “I don’t know. I can’t remember that now.”  Hmmm…perhaps that is the secret she couldn’t seem to recall.

From every life and every lifestyle there is a bit of a legacy to be treasured. So, as we – his daughter, his granddaughters, his family, his friends, his neighbors – say goodbye to Dad…Papa….Shep….I say we do the things that he never did in his life. Let’s travel the world, take vacations, and go on adventures. Let’s treat ourselves on occasion to exquisite experiences just because we can.

But…along the way, let’s have a picnic in the yard, eat strawberry ice cream, and drink 7-Up. Let’s pitch washers with the family on a summer afternoon until the plink of the metal against the board brings the neighbors out to visit, too. Let’s compete with ourselves to outdo last year’s garden, and load up everyone we know with a sack of peppers and tomatoes.  Let’s appreciate the flowers that pop up through the cracks of the steps by the garage. Let’s talk about our work with pride, and keep up with the latest changes to it even years after we retire. Let’s throw on a cap and go on afternoon drives just to stop by and see how people are doing. Let's take a brisk walk through the neighborhood or do a few laps around the church. Let’s wash the car again…even if it is sparkling clean before we get started.  Let’s always ask how many cylinders are in the new and fancy cars we see. Let’s meticulously paint a swing the perfect shades of red, white, and blue. Let’s make a scarecrow for the garden, and then steal his straw hat on occasion. Let’s hang giant, retro, colored Christmas lights along the rails and window in December. Let’s find a favorite color – his was red – and wear it whenever we can. Let’s sneak something sweet when we know someone else is paying attention…just for spite. Let’s read the paper from cover to cover and then take it across the street with a hot meal to the mother-in-law that so willingly helped raise that daughter of ours (that daughter that Granny currently remembers as being a loud little baby, but one that was smart…so smart in school). And then let’s remember that all those very simple things really could – especially for a man like Papa – add up to a whole life of happy.  

“Granny, did Mama Gertie like Papa when you told her you wanted to marry him?”

Her response? “Well, I think so. Mama never complained about him.” She paused and focused on that thought longer than she does most these days. Then she said,  “Yeah…I think she liked him.”