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preach the third Sunday of the month. I remember him coming over for dinner and relaxation on quite a few occasions. he may have even spent the night. I learned this hospitality and kindness from them. They had deep pockets, deep pockets of love that is. I really believed they understood the known unknown: love. On-screen and off-screen they were the same.

But we learned and witnessed so much more during our summer stays. We learned how to fatten the chickens and hogs for the kill. We witnessed the kills as well. We learned how to plant watermelons and cantaloupes. We witness making wine from grapes. We gathered the eggs and helped can the fruits and vegetables. We also fed the chickens, ducks and geese. The same lot where the hogs were was the wild stallion named Rambler; there was a pond there too. And we had to draw our water from two cisterns: one for drinking water and the other for washing the clothes. By the way there are no spay and neuter programs nor endangered species in this primitive-to-many civilization. This was a very educational setting.

I saw big-momma lay on her belly and kill a snake under the house with a 12 Gage shot gun. Can't forget big-daddy making us sit down while there was thunder and lightning saying "Sit down, the Master is at work." Big daddy used to always say "I makes it and I spends it", money that is. I remember the mail carrier dropped the mail off at the mouth of the road, the stroll to retrieve the mail was a quarter of a mile, just wonderful exercise. Going to the city or downtown was called going 'uptown', strange but true. Speaking of walking, the walk to Sunday bible school every Sunday morning was better than a mile.

My grandparents only found two television programs to their liking: Room 222 and the midday news which by the way, broadcast my great grandfather's death (man 86 hit and drug by train), only we didn't know it was him. And they didn't allow us to watch much television, only certain cartoons and a few family oriented programs they felt were appropriate.

My heart used to passionately protest when it was time to return to the city, always wanting to take the long way home. Sometimes I still romanticize about living in the country, but I don't spend a lot of time back there. It's just not the same: Big-daddy died in 1988 of diabetes complications, big-momma in 1995 after a long bout with Alzheimer. How I miss them, losses that still sting so many years later (2009). But I still have a diary of souvenirs of these very special people that taught me so many important life lessons and offered not only me, but their children and the rest of their grandchildren so many extraordinary experiences and showed us what life is really all about. For those of us that paid attention, we know how family is supposed to be. We know how people are supposed to be treated, even our enemies. Because of my grandparents and our relationship, I'm apart of an unique fraternity: understanding what love really is. And because of what we shared was so special, I don't spend a lot of time pining. And because I believe they are over yonder with God where I will be one day, I will see them again.

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