What I remember of my Pawpaw, my father’s father, are memories gleaned from a child’s-eye view.
He liked to wear bib overalls and a baseball cap, and he had a thick head of gray hair and my dad’s features and easy grin. He played “store” with me using loose change and random items we found around the house. When I made As in elementary school, I took the sticker-covered papers down to his house to show him. He was always fiercely proud of my schooling and wanted me to do well. And once – I remember this in particularly vivid detail – he took me out to see a nest of baby rabbits, warning me in a hushed voice to leave the nest and the little huddle of bunnies undisturbed.
When I was in the third grade and he passed away, I was so sad that I asked my maternal…
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