It's What Grandparents Do

There are alot of little things I remember when I think about my grandparents.  Driving to feed the cattle with Grandhoyt.  Counting train cars with Papa.  Snapping beans with Granny, stitting on her front porch and the smell of her fresh baked cornbread.  And those are just for starters.  The point is that I remember.  Clearly and completely.  As an educator, I know why that happened.  It has to do with explicit, episodic and semantic memory as well as rehearsal.  As a granddaughter it has to do with the moments in time they wrote my name on.  The many ways they loved me well.  Like the way my Nana used to carry a package of Clorets gum in her purse.  Always.  Because one random time, she gave me some.  And I liked it.  And forever after that, it was a connection to her.  A Nana thing.  

Almost every time I'd see her, I'd ask for some of her green-gum.  Or "geen gum".  What can I say, I started loving it early in life.   The gum wasn't that great in retrospect.  Hubba-Bubba or Juicy Fruit was much more fun.  But I can't look at Clorets today without thinking of Nana.  Her purse.  The way she used to smile when the gum ritual began.  And the money she must have spent keeping herself stocked with plenty at all times.  And I'm sure, that's exactly why she kept it all going.  Because it would be our thing.  Something special, something little, that was just ours to enjoy together.  It is a memory of her that endures.  I can still smell the gum.  And see the way her smile lit up as she reached into her purse for the bazillionth time.  And that memory, like the hidden key to their house I occasionally had to search for, can open up the Nana files in my mind...  I can feel the way her tiny little frame would bend my back the wrong way when she reached down to hug me.  Smell the stairs down from the sunroom to her basement.  Hear the sound of her dresser drawers being pulled open to reveal box upon box of colorful jewelry we were sometimes allowed to play with.  Yes, that gum is powerful stuff.  A little gesture, a shared routine, and now a pathway back to her.

I can only marvel at all the wonderfulness that is in store for Caden and Addison as they build their own special connections to each of their grandparents.  The little things that will be shared.  Which will become big things over time.  And I wonder, if one of those things is going to involve Caden, Pop, and sauce.  See Caden has this thing about dipping sauces.  He likes them.  And he loves dipping his fork, his food, his fingers, pretty much everything in said sauces.  And not because he particularly likes the taste either.  It all started one day when he noticed Travis dipping a chip in some sour cream.  And for the rest of the meal Caden dipped his chips too.  This has now carried over to any sauce he sees being utilized at the table.  Including green tabasco, which Pop had on his eggs one morning during his last visit.  (I should note here, that for anyone who hasn't tried this stuff... it's not hot, just tangy.)

Caden immediately eyed Pop's eggs and eagerly tried a bite.  Then he asked for "Pop's sauce" of his own.  And just like that, green tabasco got a new name.  And maybe, just maybe, a little sauce ritual got started...   Nothing major.  Just a little sauce.  One small part of one regular old morning.  And yet, a moment in time that just might hold the beginnings of forever.   Who knows?  That's for Caden and Pop to figure out.  What I do know, is that it is a beautiful blessing to watch grandparents and grandchildren love each other so well.