Yesterday Papaw turned 90. So today he'd say he's practically 91.
I've always loved visiting my grandparents home, I'd always come home smelling a little of his pipe smoke.
He beat me in a race when he was in his late 50's. Monday, I went back to an amazed second grade class and told them that, "My Papaw is faster than me...and he's retired!"
He and my grandmother had this bike rebuilt by a friend for me. To this day it is still the best bike I ever had.
I wish I could find that photo of him taking my brother and I fishing on Shady Lake once in a canoe. I felt like an Indian girl floating in the middle of the lake, throwing back fish that were too small. (They were all too small.)
My children see him as the one who played "monster" with them on the floor, the one who hung a tire swing for them, who searches for Easter eggs they hide, and who sat around an imaginary campfire with them in the backyard.
He's still spoiling them with Dr. Peppers and candy. My daughter sits next to him in his rocker in the garage, talking, while my son digs through his tools, looking for something he can make stuff with.
What a great day. Happy Birthday, Papaw. I love you.