The Dog With a Wiggly Foot
that is what I heard when either sick or hurt or when a sibling was sick or hurt. Grandpa Art Smith seemed to invent this queer cure that evaporated kids tears. As my memory serves me, he started the story with some old dog that he used to have that ran across the road and got himself hit. the dog survived but never walked the same after that. You see he had a good foot and wiggley foot. A good foot, and a wiggly foot. This went on and on until he got his victim to laugh tears instead of cry tears.
Another one of my favorites is when we'd leave from their house; he'd push the car off as if he were really pushing it. For us youngsters, it was a standard fun game that we came to love and expect. He also would tell of how this butterfly and sparrow would always buzz around bothering him.......until the one day SLAP! He'd peeled his hand away from his bicep or chest and there rests the tattoo of the poor ole sucker.
Iced coffee sweet as ever. Boiling hot coffee that he'd sip with a no-nerve-ending leathery tongue. He'd also stir up his concoction of Milk of Magnesia each morning or night. His bird-chest wrinkled physique was always interesting to me. Lastly, I remember his cool and calm temperament. He would often tap his smooth fingers to his lips. The funny thing is that when I see Uncle Glenn, many of these mannerisms and memories come rushing back.
I am the keeper of his rifle from the Navy if you'd like to see it or shoot it one day. Just let me know. I heard that there was not a man aloe that did not like ole Art Smith. That was a very easy story to believe. Good for you to live such a pleasant life!
Grandma Catherine Smith
The Third Sorrowful Mystery...Saying the Rosary AFTER church in their living room. Grandma would always cut Grandpa off, someone would start to "church snicker" and eventually someone would loose all his or her built up laughter and crack up. We then must have gotten scolded or had to walk out of the room to gather our composure. And of course, as soon as we hit the thruway, the Rosary came out and we were off to pray for our safe travels. Oh yea, and then there was the speaking in tongues. The holy oil would drip form our foreheads and after some words of wisdom and we were off on our road-trip journey.
The smell of her Powder Room subtly crept throughout the entire house to give it a most distinctive aroma. It was not good or bad, just unique.
The other interesting conversation I had with Grandma that I still chuckle with is after I dabbled in some Darwinism and the theory of evolution, I asked her what she thinks about it and she swiftly snapped, "If you mean that we came from apes, No Way!" She said it in a way that told me that the conversation was over in that one brief exchange.
I also remember her waiting in the car for about ten minutes before Grandpa would stroll out to meet her for church or anywhere. Consistently this went on for years.
The other gem of a classic Grandma experience was one day while I was driving non-sporadically with proper use of the brakes, she said, "Thank God it's not raining today." And then, "Thank God there's no traffic." And the kicker was, while stopped at a traffic light she chimed in, "Thank God the light changed.....The last one got me laughing. To myself of course.
"She Called Me Honey"
For several years until I was six or seven, I never took to my sweet and kind Nana Arora (Cora) Sauvageau. It was just Uncle Ivan, and me who needed Nana? Then one day as I was leaving Nana said, "Good-bye honey!" I turned to Uncle Ian and said to him, "She called me honey." I was actually confused because I was thinking she was calling me the honey that bees make. Nana thought that was so sweet of me to say, and all I know is that we became good friends from that day on.
So from then on, my relationship with Nana blossomed. We spent a great deal of time cooking, mostly cakes, pies, Rice Crispy Treats, Christmas cookies, rhubarb jam, and soups. Many, many soups. While we'd wait for our masterpieces to cook we'd play cards. Rummy and solitaire were our favorites. I'm still not sure if she let me win or I beat her fair and square. But either way, it was time well spent. I just remember that I wrote some thoughts about this before. So here they are...
Nana helped to instill the value of sharing your time and energy with others less fortunate. She'd often say, "That could easily be you who has those problems." And more effectively, she led by example. She helped her mother run a boarding house when she grew up and for her whole life she took in friends and family members who had physical or mental challenges. She was so kind-hearted that way.
I spent a lot of time with her in the early years and she'd take me with her to see Aunt Ella, who I believe was Grandpa Sauvageau's sister. This really opened my eyes to the last chapter of my life at a very early age. One funny thing was after Aunt Ella died Nana and I went tot he funeral home and saw a women lying in a casket and went over and Nana started to cry over her. Two minutes later, the funeral director came over and said that Aunt Ella was in the next room over. So we took our sympathetic and slightly embarrassed tears to the next room where Aunt Ella really was.
Eagle Eye
I have included Uncle Ivan in this mix because quite frankly he deserves to be and I already have it done. A few years ago I took a writing class and one of our topics was to write about an influential person in our life. So this is it...
IRS - "Uncle Ivan" My uncle Ivan is my father's eldest brother of a family of five. What he did professionally throughout his life was work at Bell Aerospace and then surveyed with my father. He lived a very frugal life, which allowed him to "retire" at an early age, forty something I believe. What he did in his spare time was continue to learn anything and everything and teach it to anyone who had the patience to listen and learn. Self-taught at most things, he could and often did keep his car going for yours beyond its expiration date. I can remember frozen winter nights under his VW Bug working with heat lamps to change break lines or tar up patches to cover holes in the floorboards. More importantly, I remember the many lessons of life he subtly taught me through his many examples. He was honest, kind, generous, patient, and just fun to be around. He also opened my eyes to the many splendors of bird watching. At one point I thought I was the first person to see an albino Canadian Goose. He, at a seconds notice, would turn a puddle of water into the coolest self-sufficient ecosystem with all sorts of life thriving within it. He provided my siblings and I, a magical getaway where time slowed down and we actually interacted with the world around us. He thrived on taking us to places to explore like Durreren's Islands, Balls Falls, Alabama Swamps, and to the infamous railroad bridge planted hundreds of feet above a creek where we challenged ourselves to walk across with the railroad ties about a foot and a half apart. And then there was that drive where he'd go about forty miles per hour and hit a bump that would make our heads literally hit the roof of the car. The hot soups and peanut butter and fluff sandwiches, RC Cola, the glass cleaner for his windshield, the lack of heat in his car, the running out of gas but having the spare tank in the front turn, are all super memories for me.
He'd share stories and artifacts from his many travels. The real stuffed alligator (or is it a crocodile) in his closet, the Mexican sombrero, the mercury in a bottle (the only liquid that is not wet), and the awesome rock collection that I once borrowed and hope I returned...He inspired my older brothers and sisters to travel and experience the world. When these older sibling brought back their pictures of Yellowstone, Yosemite, Mt. Rushmore, and the Grand Canyon, I was instantly hooked on seeing them first-hand for myself.
Most recently I spent half a day with him and we hiked the gorge together with my brother Paul and his two sons. He continues to amaze me with his lust for knowledge and easy-going spirit. When I asked if he'd change much about his past, he replied, "I have tried to live my life with few regrets, and no, I wouldn't change much of anything in my past."
To count the many ways that my Uncle Ivan has been influential in my life would be tough. I am grateful that he "somehow" passed on his many ideologies, philosophies, and regret-free decision making skills on to me. I thank him for all that he has shared with me! I love you Uncle Ivan!
Frenchy
My memories of Grandpa Sauvageau are a bit limited. I can remember when he lived alone in an apartment on Eighth Street. Uncle Ivan and I would visit him there often Plop Plop Fizz Fizz, was literally the sound of the Alcaselser as it hit the water. I remember the cool looking lamp that was next to his bed. In fact, to this day, it sits on my desk and it is a great treasure that sparks memories from back in the day. As his health deteriorated we visited him often in the nursing homes that he lived at in Ransomville and downtown Niagara Falls. I remember his French accent, that he often wore a hat, and his dentures that would often go missing. Uncle Ivan was a huge support in taking care of him in the latter part of his years.
