My grandpa died today. He was 89 and I was named after him. He was Robert R Rough, Sr. We've know for a while that he was getting ready to head on out and be with Grandma, but all the same - it makes you stop and think.
He was a good man. Having 9 children, I was to third eldest of 4,573 grandkids (estimate). I was one of the lucky ones who got to spend some time with him growing up. Here are some of the things I remember about him:
- He took naps on the green couch in the living room with a sunlamp and weird eye-covering goggles. He wasn't doing it for the tan, he probably read something - somewhere - that said it was good for you.
- He had a workshop in the basement where you could try to build anything. One of the toys he made for us kids was a wooden board full of hinges, locks and clasps. You could open and close its doors and see comic strips once you figured out the lock.
- He took us camping and on nature hikes. He would tell us about the leaves and how to identify trees.
- Before his knee surgery, he had to sit on the end pew at church and stick his leg out since it wouldn't bend. He always got the best seat that way.
- Chocolate peanut butter milkshakes. Say no more.
- He was a scout leader. Twice. He started-up the troop again so my cousin Scott and I would be able to be scouts. I wish I told him more often how much I appreciate that. I was a teenager back then and expressing gratitude for anything wasn't my strong suit.
- Most of all - he was patient. More often than not, we grandkids were not saints. But he loaded us up in the station wagon and took us everywhere grandma told him to.
Right now, he and grandma are together again. Probably sitting at the big Rough House dining room table together playing Scrabble.
