Papaw

By, Joni (August 2001, revised January 2004)

Short Story, Non-Fiction

All my life, I’ve called him Papaw. Not Grandpa, or Granddaddy, or Papa, or even Gramps. Papaw. My cousin started it. When he was little and was first learning how to talk, he couldn’t say “Grandpa”. He could only say “Papaw” and it just stuck. There were only three of us grandkids, but everyone called him Papaw, not just us.

I first remember Papaw during one of the worst experiences a little four-year-old girl can have. My parents were getting a divorce and I moved to Oregon with my mother and baby sister to live with Papaw and Mamaw. He smiled and hugged us and never talked to us about unpleasant things. He was and always will be a gentle man with the heart of a sweet child.

More then anything at that time, I needed the positive influence from a good man. Don’t get me wrong, my Dad isn’t a bad man and never was, he just wasn’t there anymore. We left him behind in Alaska, which was very far away. We needed a man to give help us feel secure and loved. That’s what Papaw did for us.

Papaw lived in a house right next to a large wood full of trees. I clearly remember taking walks with him every night, through the woods with his hand carved walking sticks. He even made a special one just for me. I don’t remember what we talked about, it was too long ago, but I just remember we talked and I loved it. Our walking sticks also served a special purpose, not just to help us with our walking, but a specialized tool just for smashing slugs. Papaw hated slugs. He told me they ate plants and ruined his garden. He would never allow me to squish any other bug or creature with the end of my stick, but slugs were fair game. I used to laugh at the build-up of slug guts that was always present on the bottoms of our sticks.

Except for slugs, Papaw loved all animals, especially birds. When my grandparents moved out of the house near the woods and into a condo for a brief time, he would take me on walks to see the horses grazing in their field nearby. Everyday Papaw would pack a special bag full of big juicy carrot sticks and we would feed the horses together. I remember clearly laughing at the feel of those big horse lips on my hands and Papaw laughing with me.

Around the time Papaw lived in the condo, I started school. My grandparents would watch me at their place until my Mom got off work and could take me home. One day while I was at school, I lost my tooth. It wasn’t my first loose tooth, but I still remember being excited about it. I knew I’d get a treat from the tooth fairy that night, and that was something to be happy about. In those days, when you lost your tooth at school, the nurse would give you a special necklace with a plastic cord and a large hollow plastic tooth strung on it that had a lid that snapped tightly shut. You could put your tooth inside of the plastic tooth to keep it safe around your neck until you got home. When I got to Papaw’s house after school, I was so excited to show him my tooth, but when I opened the plastic tooth, my real tooth was gone. Sometime during the day, the pendant had come open and my tooth fell out and was lost for good. I became very upset. No tooth meant no tooth fairy, and I was convinced I wouldn’t be getting any surprises under my pillow that night.

Papaw hugged me tight and then made me lay down on his couch to rest and calm down. Then he left the room quietly for a time. A little while later he came back and told me he had something for me. I sat up and looked in his hand. There he held a small white rock that closely resembled a child’s incisor, just like the one I lost. If Papaw had a passion it was rocks. He collected many rare and unusual stones and he would spend hours polishing them, sorting them, and setting some to create pieces of jewelry. As he handed me the tiny stone that looked so much like a tooth, he told me I could put it under my pillow and fool the tooth fairy. He whispered in my ear that she would never know the difference and think it was a real tooth. My tears forgotten, I hugged Papaw and thanked him, knowing that what he told would work. Sure enough the next morning, the stone was gone and I got my surprise. It’s funny now that I remember the rock more then what I got from the tooth fairy.

Years later, when Mamaw and Papaw moved into another house, Papaw taught me how to make salads. This may not seem like a big thing, but it was to me and still is. Papaw’s job was to make the salad each night for dinner and I like to watch him do for some reason. One night he suddenly announced out of nowhere that he would teach me how to do it. Carefully, he showed me how to wash and rip the lettuce, how to cut tomatoes without making a huge mess, how to slice cucumbers, radishes, and other vegetables without slicing open my fingers. Most importantly, he showed me how to clean up when I was finished. After several days, he was satisfied that I knew what I was doing, he left me alone and making the daily dinner salad became my job. I always liked having this job, but I didn’t know why until many years later. I was so young and Papaw was the only adult I knew who trusted me with a knife. He alone knew I had grown up enough to handle the task and he taught me well. Only once in all my years of using knives can I remember slicing open my own finger, and that was because of my own carelessness and stupidity. More then just using a knife, it was being trusted to do a task and for me to know that he knew I could do it. He complimented my salads every night and the dinner table in front of everyone there, and it made me feel proud. He also never hovered over me, correcting my every move while I was making it. He left me alone to learn the perfection of it for myself. My job making salads was the first time I can remember feeling like I could handle grown-up responsibilities and that I could do them well. This made me feel good about myself. All of this is thanks to Papaw.

Papaw also taught me many more things during my childhood. He helped me learn to love books, music, and learning. He was the one who bounced me on his knee, sang me silly songs, and rocked me in his warm lap. Papaw had large gentle hands. His gentleness came naturally, I’m sure, but it was also a practiced art he learned during his many years working as a pediatrician. To me, his hands meant I could always count on a nice backrub, and Papaw never turned down my requests.

Papaw wasn’t perfect, but who is? He smoked and drank booze, two vices I am proud to say I didn’t follow. He also snored like an earthquake. When he would fall asleep for his daily nap, it used to scare me to get close to him at all. His snores rocked the entire house, and my very soul, in a way I never knew possible.

Years came and went. When Mamaw died, he cried like a baby for weeks and I thought my heart would break with his each time. Not long after, he remarried and moved away to Texas to start a new life without me. I didn’t mind it and never have because I always have my memories of him. Those memories came in handy when he had a full-fledged stoke. Even now, he is still only a shadow of the man I once knew, but he is still here, as I learned so wonderfully on a recent visit with him. His face may be older but his eyes still shine with the love of the Papaw I knew. He cannot speak like he used to, but the three most common things you will hear him say are “wonderful”, “lovely”, and “I love you”. What else does he need to say? To me, these words reflect the hope in him, and most importantly his love. His hands are still gentle, although he can only use one of them. Watching him play with my own children, tickling them with his one hand, brought so many memories back to me and I am glad they got to know my Papaw, even if he’s not quite the same. He is the same in all the ways that count and are important.

There is one last thing I know to be true about Papaw that may be the most wonderful thing to me. I’ve heard it said that women tend to marry men like their own fathers, and men marry women like their mothers. My own husband is a dear sweet man, but he is not much like my own Dad. It only just occurred to me that he is much more like Papaw then I realized, and for this I am truly thankful.