Come this Christmas it will be one year since my Papaw passed away. Sometimes, I forget that he's no longer here and I think of how great it will be to see him again. Although he is no longer in this world, his memory has stayed with me and always will. Times of laughter, times of tears and times of extreme joy will never leave me. The patent "Heheh, shug." is something that frequently comes to mind. His unintended silliness would always provoke a smile from me. And how he could talk so incrediblly much is something no one will ever forget.

When Brian and I were younger, I can remember running across the yard to Mamaw and Papaw's house. They were always pleased to see us. After greeting us at the door with a hug and a smile, Papaw would lead us to his dresser in the back for a savory treat. I can remember how amazed I was at how he always seemed to have some kind of candy or gum. This man was like a candy store! The gum he'd give us was normally Big Red, with an occasional Juicy Fruit. As Brian and I smacked away with the tasty treat in our mouths, Papaw would giggle and hand us another piece for later. (Although we always winded up eating it right then and there.)

Yes, we tended to stay at Mamaw and Papaw's house alot growing up. Since we lived in a trailer just a few yards away, their house and yard was our playground. Brian was quite fond of one particular tree in their yard and that was the apple tree. During the summer time as Mamaw and Papaw would sit on their front patio, they would watch as Brian and I played in the apple tree's outstretched arms. Now, I knew not to eat too many of those green apples because of the belly-aching consequences that followed. However, Brian would eat and eat those little green apples like they were the very sticks of gum Papaw would give us. You could always tell when Brian had decided to have a midafternoon snack of this fruity delight. Many apples surrendered to Brian's craving for the sour morsels and all that were left were the carcass of cores at the foot of the tree. Sometimes, he didn't even leave those! I can remember Mamaw and Papaw noting Brian must have "a stomach of iron" to handle such large amounts of sour substance.

Oh, that apple tree. Not only did it provide a playground for Brian and I, but it also served as a ground for protection. Well, temporarily that is. I can remember when I was about eight or nine years old our cat, Furball, tended to play a little to rough for my taste. I'm sure that's due to having a little brother who liked to dunk the ill-mannered feline like a basketball through a hoop. Anyway, this crazy cat would chase me and bite my ankles. I would run, but somehow Furball would always catch up with me and sink his sharpend claws in my tiny ankles. On one particular day, I had come outside to play on the swingset. I saw him crouched in the weeds a few feet away. I knew he looked suspcious and was about to pounce on me at any time. I darted for the apple tree, but knew that this fortress would not protect me from the crazy kitty for too long. Ahead, I saw Mamaw and Papaw's house. It was only a few yards away. As the cat snipped my heels, I ran for refuge at their house. By this time, tears were streaming down my cheeks and my hair clung to my face, soaked by my tears. As I frantically banged on the door, I noticed the cat emerging from the bushes. Just in time, Papaw opened the door and I ran inside the house. His eyes were filled with calm compassion as he question what the matter was. I explained to him that Furball was on the attack and in so many words, I illustrated I was tragically about to meet my death. A whisper of a smile crossed his face. Then Papaw told me I had to face Furball to complete my journey home. I flailed my hands about and told him I could not possibly cross that yard alone. I desperately begged Papaw to carry me (yes, carry me) across the yard back into the warmth of my home. His face soften and he shook his head. I knew this was a terrible challenge that I must face alone. Papaw continued to encourage me to face Furball. "You can do it, shug. If he bothers you, just kick him!" And with that he imitated me kicking Furball like a football and him shooting far across the sky. I attempted to hide my smile as it materialized beneath my dirty palm. I breathed a deep breath of courage and decided that if it was my time to go, so be it. Papaw gave me a sturdy pat on the back. He informed me he would watch me from the patio as I crossed the yard. "Go on, now. If he does anything to you, just kick him!" I heard him call as I slowly crept across the yard. It seemed to stretch for miles and miles. A journey of about one minute seemed to last a life time. Fortunately, Furball decided he had bigger fish to fry and was no where in sight. As I made a break for it, I heard Papaw's hefty chuckle in the distance, "Heheheh."

Tinkering around in the barn was something Papaw always seemed to be doing. His dirty, grease encrusted hands spoke truth of his eagerness to be hard at work. Things to fix, bolts to tighten, nails to hammer...something was always going on in the barn. Although the barn was a dirty haven for the working man, I liked to sit and watch Papaw as he steadily worked away throughout the day on various projects. Unlike most prissy, pink-wearing girls, I liked to get my hands dirty. "Give me a hammer, I'll fix it!" I'd cry in a vain attempt to make something operate like new. When I wasn't attempting to save the dying souls of machinery, I was instead swinging on the door of the massive barn. Back and forth, back and forth. I don't think this was something Papaw liked so much. With a stern glance of his eyes, I knew he meant business and off the door I went.

I always looked up to Papaw when it came to learning new things. The man himself was like a talking Webster's dictionary. He taught me about things from what it was like when he was younger to what type of plants I could eat! One late afternoon, Brian and I stood at Papaw's side as he gave us a guided tour of such edible plants. Mamaw had some flowers planted out towards the road. Now, Brian and I knew to stay away from Mamaw's flowers just as we were to stay away from her magnolia tree. Mamaw put the fear in us when it came to touching her plants. So anyway, Papaw walks right up to Mamaw's flower bed. Obviously, he did not know what grave danger he was sinking in. Our eyes widen with amazement as Papaw closed in on the blooming buds. Surely, he wasn't about to touch the flowers. Why, if Mamaw had looked out that window, she'd have his head! Yet, as Brian and I marveled at his courageous feat, he stooped and picked a flower from it's resting place. Well, he'd done now! That's it. We may as well bid Papaw farewell. He turned to face us. To our astonishment, he bit off a mouthful of petal. Immediately, a disgusted "Ewww," sounded from the mouths of my brother and me. Though muffled by his rather large bite of petal, Papaw explained it was okay to eat this flower and it was actually pretty good. He suggested we try some as he offerred us the crumpled petals. Being the dauntless duo we were, we decided to try a piece. It sure didn't taste the way I had envisoned it to. As Papaw finished off the rest of his flower, we spit ours to the ground. Shaking his head and laughing he asked "You don't like it?" Brian and I looked at each other and laughed. Soon after, we left the crime scene so that there were no traces of misconduct.

Mamaw called them tall tales. But to Papaw the stories were every-worded truth. I heard such stories several times growing up. You could count on Papaw to bring up these unbelievable truths while sitting with our family. I can remember listening intently as he told of how one man jumped across a fifty foot ditch. Papaw would tell his stories from the safety of his cozy, well-worn brown recliner. His face would become animated with astonishement and exaggeration. His tone would vary from the high pitch of the exciting points to the low pitch of the scary parts. His hands would struggle to speak in volumes louder than his voice as they rapidly moved about during his tale-telling. His eyebrows peaked and his eyes swelled to match the great adventures he sought to deliver with certainty. One story that will never cease to be told is the story Papaw gave about the man and the big snake. Now, if you ask different family members about this certain story, what kind of animal it really was, seems to vary. Some say it was a panther. Others say it was an anaconda. Yet, still, others claim it to be a catfish. Who knows. I can remember sitting on Mamaw and Papaw's couch eavesdropping in on different conversations when Papaw's caught my wandering ear. "My friend had just taken his lunch break and came out to sit next to me on a log," he continued. "I turned to get something out of my lunch sack and when I turned back around I saw this huge anaconda came out of the water and swallowed my friend whole!" Papaw exclaimed. Stories just as these continued through the years, rising their interesting heads. However, they never lost the thrill they held.

When I was older and graduated from high school, Papaw was sick and couldn't make it to see Bryce and I graduate. I knew that this was something he desperately wanted to take part in and hated to miss. When we brought the graduation tape over for him to watch, his eyes filled with joy. Tears welled in his eyes as he watched two of his grandchildren graduate. He was so proud of us and that really made me happy. I longed to make my family happy and I'm thrilled that I did. I remember how he hugged me so tight and told me he loved me. I knew that my Papaw truly loved me so much. And I loved him too.

Every Christmas Papaw would play the part of Santa. I think he enjoyed passing out the gifts. He'd chuckle with delight as he watched his precious grandchildren unwrap the gifts with giddy laughter. Sometimes, one of us would wind up opening the wrong gift because Papaw didn't have his glasses on! The hustle and bustle of Christmas was something I think Papaw could do without. But, when it came Christmas day, time with his family meant alot to him.

I surely could not have asked for a greater Papaw than the one I had. There's so many little things I'll always remember about him, like how he liked to watch golf on Sundays (maybe just because nothing else was on!) His love for his flannel button-up shirts, his slip-on shoes and his cap that he always wore too high setting ontop of his head. I'll never forget about his cold water jar that was always ready for an overheated tot like me or how he cherished his trips with Mamaw to the mountains. I'll simply never forget about him. Although he is no longer in this world, his memory has stayed with me and always will.