Love at First Bite


This picture was taken in 1924.

Was it really cookie love? Nah, I don't think so.

Grandpa Flint would come to visit and he'd have a little brown bag in his hand. He'd stop at the bakery on his way over (smart grandpa-he knew how to win friends and influence people).

He would have me sit on his knee and be the number one kid in his life. He'd bring cookies and I got to eat as many as I wanted. He made sure I had one for each hand and THEN he'd let Bobby have one and no matter how fast Bobbie ate his (he was three years older than me and could eat fairly fast) Bob didn't get another cookie until I had finished one. On his lap, in his arms, I KNEW I was loved.

Maybe that's why to this day I like cookies so much! Seriously, as I look back I really feel that special time was when I truly felt that I was loved. I had felt that I was in my mother's way and later I felt like I could NEVER be what dad wanted me to be (and therefore could NEVER qualify as worthy of his love) but grandpa Flint-now there was someone who made me feel loved. Mama said I'd go to him before I'd go to my own dad. She said I'd go to him where I'd cower to any other stranger or family friend. I knew where I was loved.

He even invited me to spend the night at his gun shop with him once. He didn't have a car-most people didn't. We rode the bus as close as it would get us to his shop and walked the remaining blocks. He was different to walk with than mom-he walked at my pace-he really loved me.

One time, when my dad was in the hospital recovering from a severe hunting accident (may have been a self-made accident-shot a rock and the bullet ricocheted into his abdomen) I asked grandpa if he'd be my daddy since mine may not survive (at least that's what my mom-a severe worry-wart at the time-had said may happen).

All I can say is, if I have any grandsons that are born with curly hair-they had better be called Sherman! Grandpa was 6' 4" and had beautiful curly hair. What a handsome man he was and how kind, gentle, and loving too. This statement merely reflects my love of my Grandpa-not that I would interfere on my children naming their children.

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