Ode to Grandpapa
I just wanted to write about how cool my Grandpapa, Paul Staats, was. He was a reporter for the local newspaper. My memories of him are few and precious. He was a ornery coot, but was hysterically funny with his bizarre ways. He would come home from work, and swig milk from the carton, whilst my Grandmama would be exclaiming, "Paul! Honestly!" He liked cheese, Vermont cheddar, of course. He would cut off crooked slices with a knife and wouldn't shut the wrapper properly so the cheese would get yellow and hard. He then went to his room, and watched Mr. Rogers. I remember him getting up early in the morning to prepare for work, I sat on the toilet and watched him slick back his black hair, smooth and shiny, and I would eye his shiny black shoes. He wore glasses, I think they had black frames. When I think of him, I think of the color black. He would blast jazz music in the wee morning hours, much to the dismay of those asleep. I love jazz music because of him. He would majorly blast it. He also liked keeping a glass in the bathroom to drink out of, and once I broke it and cut my left thumb, underneath my nail, and I have a scar, to this day. I remember cigarette butts floating in the toilet and he yelling at my aunts for soaking their period stained panties in the bathroom sink. (Lots of bathroom memories, oddly) I remember he liked Ramen noodles and ate them out of a coffee mug. He liked avocados, and coconuts. On the yearly camping trip to Button Bay in Vergennes, VT, he showed me how to open a coconut. He loved finding the weather on the weather AM radio that was staticky and the radio dude talked in a drugged tone, similar to a NPR crony. He gave me a candy bar once, at bedtime, and told me not to tell my Grandmother. I hid it under my pillow and when the lights were out I opened it, ever so slowly. Grandmama had eyes for everything naughty he did, and he got busted for that. Anyway....I miss him, I wish I could have gotten to make more memories with him, that he could have met my kids and shared Vermont cheddar with them and watch Mr. Rogers, like I did with him. RIP Grandpapa.