BACK IN THE day before radio I was told by my late grandfather that they would sit around the camp fire and tell stories of their parents or friends or once in a while the crazy uncle. Now I was pretty young then and I think we did have a radio but grandpa would just say that we didn’t. Grandpa was a story teller and he could spin a yarn or two, I wish I had listen to then better so I could retell them here. Most of them were about things I didn’t not have a clue about. Grandma and grandpa lived in a walk up apartment that had several flights of stairs before you got to the hallway that went down the length of a magazine warehouse. It was a great place to be a little kid as on the same floor as my grandparent's apartment was also where they stored magazine and paperback book racks. The racks were kept in cardboard boxes and the warehouse was like a giant tetris game. Here is where my brother and I built forts with sliding cardboard walls and secret doors. Thinking back we were like rats in a maze.
I don’t know why I am thinking about this now maybe because I am thinking that I should some how leave the story here for my own kids and grand kids to read about. Maybe grandpa had a pretty good idea there about turning the radio off and just telling stories. I remember he always seem to just wear a white tee shirt with suspenders and in his hand there would be a hand rolled cigarette that he would let the ash burn long before flicking it in a small glass ashtray. From time to time he would sip on a short beer in a short glass and he would cross his legs and he had on these huge leather work boots. I remember his clothes but not his face, just that he had stubble on it but I don’t think shaving was a real priority with him. Grandma was a mound of white hair and a house dress always brings cookies or rolls to the table where me and my brother would sit and listen to stories not really trying to remember them being more interested in the cookies and rolls.
The apartment was huge and the dinning room was like a great room. On the wall hung a picture, well not a picture it was more like giant painting. It was bigger then I could spread my arms wide and even higher. It was a painting of huge trees in a woods and in the center was a mounted Mountie on horseback. I remember that because the rider was huge and many a story was told about the picture but I don’t remember. I think my grandpa or his pa had something to do with the picture and I wish I could remember, I bet it would have made good story to tell here at Lake Iwanttobethere
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