R.I.P. Grandaddy

My Grandaddy died at age 96 yesterday. He had a girlfriend, a house with a hot tub and a fast car. He loved nice cars and driving fast. Too fast. I've been thinking about the day he showed me how to widdle a dogwood tree branch into a tooth brush and how he looked like a little boy when he tipped his head back for a nap. And how sometimes his temper got the best of him -- especially on the golf course. And his voice and his stories and his colloquialisms. And cold cucumbers, sweet tea and fried chicken at his Sunday table. His humor and his intelligence and his bottomless optimism and how tight he would hug me to himself to say hello or goodbye or I love you.

The Center
With all us Grandchildren