Birthday Present

Today is March 19th, my grandfather's birthday. I have said it here before, and I wouldn’t want to repeat myself. (Who me? Redundant?) So I’ll not repeat posts of old about my dear Papaw. (But I will give you a link or two.) And I will say again that he was a very, very good man. Hmm. What have I not shared about my grandfather? What is something new I can give you? Maybe the little things. A little list of Papaw nuggets:

• He always wore a hat when he left the house.
• If you put your finger anywhere near his mouth, he would bite it. Hard. Somehow this was completely irresistible and tirelessly hilarious when we were about eight years old.
• His faith in God was strong and sure. I don’t know how he did it.
• He often began a conversation with “You live around here or ride a bicycle?”
• He also said often, for no apparent reason, "Sho 'nuff, I mean, How Do?!" and then he'd laugh and without knowing why, I laughed with him.
• He was patient beyond reason.
• He took me on my 16th birthday to get my driver’s license. I was so nervous - he let me practice parallel parking for nearly an hour before we finally went to the TxDoT on Lamar.
• He was claustrophobic, and he didn't think there was anything one bit funny about it.
• I don't think the man bought a new pair of pants during the 25 years of my life before he died.

Today I ended up on MoPac behind an old beat-up truck, not unlike Papaw’s. There was an old straw hat hanging in the back of the cab, and I kept my eye on it for a good four or five miles. It dangled there with the rhythm of the road, old but clean, tattered but whole, used but useful.

It was hopeful, like an unopened birthday present.