The Reason...

When I was very young – 5 or 6 years old – my grandfather Chris was everything to me. My father was out in the world trying to make a difference for our futures. My mother had four little ones under foot, including me. I was the eldest and most independent. I couldn't wait for the bell to ring, so I could stop at my grandfather's house on the way home. He represented my little world. When I crossed the threshold of his back door; I was home. He treated me like a little adult, he liked his tea time and he liked his tea buns... He wanted me to put the water on and later would allow me to use the stove. I would get the milk out, I still remember the package, Palm Dairy - Homogenized... He also stored his winter fruit, strawberries, raspberries, logan berries and fish in those milk cartons. When we had tea, not much was said. It was the routine and the visit, there was no other place I wanted to be...

Some days I would walk in and he would give me the shhhh, signal... meaning he was recording language. He had a personal Sony cassette recorder with a mic that would plug in the side. I was responsible for being quiet once he pressed the play and record buttons together, and handing him a fresh tape when he needed it. Some days I would arrive and he would be singing songs and drumming on an ice-cream pail. This was my favorite. I can still hear his voice... He died the spring of 1976. He is the reason I live directly behind his little house today, where he lived for his entire life and for the remainder of his days. He was desperate to leave his knowledge behind. Like so many Elders before him and after him. This is something I now understand at age 44. To me he was everything and to many he was gramps...