It's kind of odd. Every time I encounter something that's totally messed up or someone being stupid, I can hear Lochlainn in my head saying, "That's bullshit." Somehow I'm not surprised that that's the phrase I remember him saying most vividly.
I still hear Fuzzy sometimes, too. My grandfather, the one Lochlainn reminded me so strongly of, still haunts my memory. I can picture the two of them sitting up on a cloud somewhere planning mischief. And the occasional common-sense ass-kicking. I remember sitting across the dining room table and talking to Fuzzy for hours--about world events, about philosophy, about dinosaurs (hey, I liked dinosaurs and I taught him to pronounce a lot of the latin names). It didn't matter to him that I was only four or five years old, we'd discuss anything and everything under the sun. And then watch Mom and Grandma go looking for the dictionary to try to understand what we were talking about. Fuzzy wasn't a highly educated man--he barely finished high school and he was a rough-seeming bricklayer most of his life. But he enjoyed thinking and learning through discussion, even if those discussions mostly only happened with his middle granddaughter. I remember him always being so proud that I was smart, that I was a good thinker, and that I didn't take any statement at face value--I always had to dig deeper to get to the truth of things or to come up with my own opinion based on what I knew. I'm still convinced that he fought his cancer for so much longer than the doctors expected so that he could see me graduate high school and go off to college. He died just a couple of months after.
I miss him, and I always will, but I still hear an ominous "Kari Lynn..." when I'm getting into trouble. ^_^
One of the few guaranteed-authentic Lochlainn phrases--more accurately, a Papa-Bear phrase--that I still have is that ominous and admonishing "Mama..." that I'd hear when I was being either lazy or a stinker.
Wish I'd met your grandpa. The world needs more folks like that.
I still hear Fuzzy sometimes, too. My grandfather, the one Lochlainn reminded me so strongly of, still haunts my memory. I can picture the two of them sitting up on a cloud somewhere planning mischief. And the occasional common-sense ass-kicking. I remember sitting across the dining room table and talking to Fuzzy for hours--about world events, about philosophy, about dinosaurs (hey, I liked dinosaurs and I taught him to pronounce a lot of the latin names). It didn't matter to him that I was only four or five years old, we'd discuss anything and everything under the sun. And then watch Mom and Grandma go looking for the dictionary to try to understand what we were talking about. Fuzzy wasn't a highly educated man--he barely finished high school and he was a rough-seeming bricklayer most of his life. But he enjoyed thinking and learning through discussion, even if those discussions mostly only happened with his middle granddaughter. I remember him always being so proud that I was smart, that I was a good thinker, and that I didn't take any statement at face value--I always had to dig deeper to get to the truth of things or to come up with my own opinion based on what I knew. I'm still convinced that he fought his cancer for so much longer than the doctors expected so that he could see me graduate high school and go off to college. He died just a couple of months after.
I miss him, and I always will, but I still hear an ominous "Kari Lynn..." when I'm getting into trouble. ^_^
Reply
Wish I'd met your grandpa. The world needs more folks like that.
Thank you for the story, love! ((((hugs))))
Reply
Leave a comment