My thoughts have recently turned to my grandpa Wright and as I recall my misty memories of him I’m filled with nostalgia and happiness. As the words of the song goes, “those were the days my friend, we thought they’d never end”, but of course they did. Those long ago days did seem never-ending and they were filled with fun, laughter and the innocence of childhood.
Grandpa was, by vocation, a Baptist minister and for many years he pastured Pleasant Grove Baptist Church, right next door to his house on the outskirts of Conway. I was too young to appreciate the significance of attending services where he preached, but those two locations, the church and his house, are almost inseparable in my mind when I think of him. Many times when church was not in session I’d go there with him and just wander around inside soaking up the peaceful atmosphere. This was our ‘home’ church and we attended whenever we lived in the area. I grew up loving the church and the people there so it was only natural, years later, I wanted to be married there and have my grandfather perform the ceremony. He was aged at this point but he rallied enough to do the honors; how happy I am that he was able to give me this one last special memory of him.
It was always an adventure to go to grandpa’s for he lived in a converted schoolhouse and it seemed to me, as a child, enormous. The many rooms were big and airy [or drafty in certain seasons] and were perfect for playing hide and seek. I don’t remember what kind of heat he had but it didn’t extend to the bedrooms…or at least to the little used guest bedrooms, one of which I slept in when I stayed overnight. Even with no heat we stayed toasty warm even in the coldest weather, with the layers of blankets on top and the feather mattress beneath us.
We loved climbing the redbud trees on his front lawn and building forts in the fig bushes that closely surrounded his house on all sides. How perfect it was to have a handy snack within arms reach as we played; many times I’d go home too full of figs to eat dinner. If we got tired of figs and wanted something ‘more substantial’ to eat he always had cookies and candy that he passed out liberally whenever we asked. The church lawn was a natural extension of our play ground since it bordered grandpa’s lawn. There were some old stone steps on one side of the church where we children spent many hours jumping, performing plays, eating, or just talking and planning.
For many years grandpa drove a school bus in addition to his ministerial duties. [ It seems in my cloudy memory that he may have at one time been a school teacher too or a school principal] Anyway, sometimes he’d let us play in the school bus when it was parked at his house, and once in a while he’d let us ride in it…it just didn’t get any better than that! In appearance grandpa was severe with his ramrod straight back and stern face, but in reality he was kind and rather indulgent….as long as we didn’t trample his flowers.
If I remember correctly grandpa did most of the cooking because granny was ill. He once served baked opossum for dinner; it was basted and browned to perfection with an apple in its mouth. I don’t remember how it tasted but that presentation has stuck with me all these years. I’ve since wondered where he got it….did he shoot it, trap it, or did someone give it to him? Another oddity he always had on hand was pickled pig feet. I remember sitting at the table with him as we enjoyed [?] them right out of the jar. I wonder if one can still buy them…I haven’t noticed them in a grocery store in years; not that I’d want to buy any, the thought sort of turns my stomach now. In the back of his house he had a storage shed full of home canned food; at one time he raised rabbits and he had dozens of jars of canned rabbit meat.
Grandpa, being a minister, had a love for religious pictures and had them all over his house. I spent many hours perusing and contemplating them; even now I’m transported back to that time when I see a copy of one that he had in his home. The thing I most closely associate with grandpa however are flowers. He loved flowers and he had the most amazing flowerbeds…in fact most of his lawn was covered in flowers. Some of the ones I remember include jonquils, tulips, iris, hollyhock, roses and gardenia. Oh how I loved those gardenia–the smell was heavenly and even today when I smell a gardenia I think of grandpa. My bridal bouquet consisted of pink carnations with a gardenia or two tucked in for good luck.
Sometime after granny passed away grandpa remarried and moved with his new wife to Little Rock. We weren’t living in the area at the time but I do remember visiting him there a few times. He still had some of the beautiful flowers I associated with him, most notably roses and yes, the fragrant gardenia. I don’t know if he or granny [or both of them] was responsible for the beautiful flowers I remember from my childhood but my own father inherited that love for them, especially roses. My father grew magnificent hybrid tea roses and they are without doubt my very favorite flower. It just now occurred to me that grandpa’s flowerbeds may actually have been granny’s, planted and tended by her until she became ill. Perhaps that was why he was so protective of them..he wanted to preserve them for her to enjoy.
In thinking of grandpa I suddenly realize how much my life was shaped by him, something I had not realized till now. Our lives are not just what we make of them but are a sum total of all the ones we’ve known who have gone before us. Some shape our lives more than others, but they all leave their mark on us. We can only hope the mark they leave will be good… and in the case of grandpa Wright, it was.
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