Marsh memories

I have one memory of Grandpa coming home from work in Leavenworth, but for most of my life, they were retired. One nice thing about retired people is how not-in-a-hurry they are. Even when they had the frame shop, I still remember stopping to look at the water level over the dam or to stopping to pick persimmons. And I noticed this cause it was so different from the way my dad drove.

As I get older I wish sometimes I regret having had such a suburban upbringing. I wasted an awful lot of my childhood watching TV when I should have been out being Tom Sawyer. But for at least one week every year, I had the opportunity to go fishing, though I often slept in instead. There woods to explore right outside their back door, though this ofen led to poison ivy. And we got to swim in a real clear water creek. I remember coming back to Forsyth as an adult a few years ago, and stopping to ask for directions to the creek. "Which creek?" the guy asked. I didn't even know the name of it. We always just called it 'the creek.'

My grandparents were a breath of fresh air because they knew the names of trees and could tell by how the cows were positioned whether the fish were biting. Flowers seem to magically grow wherever they live. Grandpa is a naturalist at heart, made a documentary on cicadas the last time they invaded. And I'll always remember waking up one morning and stepping outisde and finding Grandpa holding a snarling baby raccoon by its neck.

Most of my early memories involve breaking things. In Leavenworth, I broke Grandpa's tape measure... I also broke their shower head somehow... Between breaking things and blowing things up with firecrackers, it's a wonder they invited us back each summer, but they did. I remember all the money they shelled out making sure we had a good time on vacation, with tickets to White Water, and Silver Dollar City, and shows. I remember bumper cars and July 4 fireworks at Rockaway Beach. Fireworks in general loomed large in our vacations, thanks to Missouri's fireworks laws, which were always more enlightened than wherever we were living.

I remember Grandpa taking us on long motorboat rides, and the smell of gasoline and fish at the dock on Table Rock. Grandpa with his left-handed fillet knife could gut a fish faster than I could look away. And in one particularly selfless act, Grandma, a Democrat, drove me to Springfileld airport just so I could see President Reagan in person. And she never complained about it.

Our grandparents were always hospitable -- in fact, I don't think there was anything they enjoyed as much as visitors. They had friends in more countries than I could name, and it seems like there was always somebody from Germany or Nepal or some other far-flung, improbable place coming to visit those wonderful hosts, the Marshes. I was reminded of this when I helped them move last year. I was sure these were the only people in the trailer park with an ______, a ______, and a nepalese hat in it.

Mornings at the Marshes' were fun, eating pancakes and watching the bird feeders. There were memorable meals, like Grandma's wonderful chicken and dumplings and Grandpa's insanely tasty fried fish. Then there were the unique meals, with things I'd never had before like rabbit, and quail, and the St. Patrick's Day corned beef and cabbage where we all went home hungry and ordered a pizza. Grandpa seemed to be always running the video camera, preserving our memories for us, and Grandma always got teary-eyed when it was time for us to go.

I remember the time Grandpa and I went into the business of manufacturing these things. He took 'em around to all his friends and ask "what is this?" No one ever guessed, and Grandpa would always laugh, "It's a pole-lock!" And I remember sitting with Grandma in the moonlight on the back deck, watching a lunar eclipse. And I'll always be grateful to Grandpa, who lightened the somber mood after Grandpa Van died by showing us all how a one-armed man counts his pocket change. I won't demonstrate it here, but he can show you if you're interested. They're good memories. Our family never took a vacation to Disneyland or the Grand Canyon. Instead we got to know our grandparents -- both sets of them -- and I wouldn't trade it for anything.

Oh, and while I'm at it, I think this would be a good place for a confession. Grandma, Grandpa, when I was about 4, I was staying with you in Leavenworth one night, and I couldn't reach the bathroom light switch, and I was scared of the dark, so I peed on your family room carpet. I hope that didn't affect the resale value of the house too much. If it did, let me know what I owe you.

Also, when I was staying with you and working at Midwest Frame, I drank most of your Cutty Sark and filled the bottle with water. I would have bought you another bottle, but none of the liquor stores in town would accept my fake Italian Driver's License I had made in art class. So now that you've both pretty much given up drinking, here's the bottle of scotch I owe you, and I hope whichever houseguest of yours drank all that water didn't think too poorly of you.

There. Now my conscience is clear.