Grandpa was the coolest grandpa anyone could have. He had a smile that was like the sun rising on a summer morning. He worked very hard, up before sunrise to feed and milk the cattle, plow or cultivate or harvest crops, keep the farm equipment in decent repair, and on and on. Every night, when Grandpa came in for supper, he would sit on the big chest in the back room to remove his dirty boots. Ray and I would run in to watch and maintain our position as resident pests. Grandpa let us sit on his knees and he’d give us whisker kisses until we’d collapse laughing. Actually, they scratched but we loved it. He had this truly awesome rolltop desk and swivel chair in the corner of the parlor where he and Grandma had their bedroom. Sometimes, he’d let us sit in his desk chair and we’d spin around until we were dizzier than usual. It was great.

We spent a lot of time out in the barn. Grandpa didn’t seem to mind as long as we didn’t do anything too stupid and dangerous. I suppose now a barn would be seen as a terribly unsafe place for children to play but, dang, it was fun. Grandpa would sit us on the back of one of the more mellow cows after she’d been milked. Not exactly like the fiery steeds we saw on TV but we weren’t that fussy about it. We liked the cows and were a great help (?) to Grandpa when we brought them in from pasture for the evening milking. It was a number of years before I knew that cows will head for the barn at milking time no matter what. It was nice to think we helped, though.