fm gl ta LL il a Sl lil LS EE GRANDPA My grandfather on my mother's side was a snarky old guy, at least to me, and it was only when I became old that I realized that I deserved every bit of snarkiness he delivered. When I was little, he was already "retired", and lived with us. He had a formidable workshop in the basement with a myriad of hand tools (I don't believe power tools had been invented yet), and he made toys from wooden boxes that he obtained from the Vincent Box Company. I pulled the nails, he built the toys. These wooden toys he sold to the local hardware stores, and kept all the money. I felt this was patently unfair, but unfairness was seemingly an alien concept to Grandpa. The workshop held a fascination for me, and when he wasn't around I'd try out his tools. I snapped the blade off his jig saw while fooling around, and fearful of facing the oid gent, I pitched the jig saw into the empty lot next door figuring he would conclude he misplaced it. It took a great deal of courage to look him in the eye and swear that I had never touched the darned thing. He must have known what was up, of course, because I wasn't a good liar then, and I'm not a good liar now, but fear of the truth eclipsed fear of lying. Frequently, the same phenomena exists to this day. I think the reason that he didn't pursue the truth with more vigour was because of the Catawba wine. He loved this stuff, and mother would let him have a glass of it in the evening from a gallon jug on the sun porch. I would slip out and refill the glass three or four times whenever Mom left the room. This bootlegging activity might have been revealed had he pursued the truth of the jig saw to it's end. He knew it. I knew it. This lesson in the balance of power stayed with me through my working life. The old guy loved to fish, and he'd recruit me to row the boat. I liked to fish, too, and rowing the boat was one of the prices I had to pay. The other was seining bait. We had a twelve foot seining net with sturdy poles on either end, and the deal was I'd take the outside end and wade into the cold water up to my navel. Agony is not full immersion, it's water lapping over the tender flesh just above the bellybutton. He'd take the inside pole and walk along the beach, while I would prance about in the deep water moaning . If we were lucky, we'd haul in a net loaded 'with little minnows (he called them gudgeons) in two or three passes. If we weren't lucky, it might take an hour. I think I irritated him most when I had a friend with me, and he sent us both out for bait while he rocked TARR Sass a on the porch. It was not a good day, and my friend and | had waded a long way down the beach and had only dredged up a couple of dozen gudgeons. A boat with two fisherman approached us, and the men in the boat offered us two bucks for them. I knew I'd be in big trouble if I sold Grandpa's hait, but two bucks! I snapped at it like a hungry perch. We trudged back up the beach and I told Grandpa that we hadn't had any luck. No minnows. But my friend became frightened when Gramps put us through the third degree. "Not one gudgeon? You seined the entire length of the beach and try to tell me you didn't catch one little gudgeon?" Knowing that I was a shifty little liar, he addressed these questions to my friend. Not used to the third degree, and unaccustomed to life with Grandpa, my friend was badly frightened and blurted out the truth. For an old guy, he came up out of his rocking chair like his pants were on fire. Not only did he have no bait, but two interlopers, two men we didn't know, two competitors for HIS fish, had HIS gudgeons. Back to the water we went, but this time Grandpa carried the minnow pail and stayed with us every step of the expedition. Continued on page 15 NN Eo a a aa rar AIRS. DICKENSONSS \ -- ChE 47 Relax in a quaint and cozy atmosphere Having weekend company? No time to cook? We will do it all for you. We also have picnic lunches available. Just give us a call!" 279A Main Street Bloomfield, Ontario KOKIGO 613-393-1450 Spring Hours: Tuesday thru Saturday 10:30am until 4:00pm. Sunday 11:00am until 4:00pm Closed Monday.