English Accents. Lime Rickey’s. Potato Chips & Hand Painted Signs
I was in my classic sundress and rainbow colored jelly sandals as my best friend Carly and I rode our bikes into Grandpa & Grandma’s yard. This was a normal look for me.’Girly girl’ is a good way to illustrate my style as a young girl. Even though I had my dress caught in the bike chain multiple times, it didn’t stop me from wearing those sundresses. Grandpa & Grandma had a magical piece of land full of adventures and places to let our imaginations run wild. Beautifully manicured flower gardens, a flowing ditch to fish for water skeeters and leaves, an old barn with an equally old red-colored horse named Brigadier, never-ending fields and a variety of trees. We spent HOURS on their property. This day our imagination lead us to the Old Apple tree in the backyard. It was the perfect height for climbing, and the branches made comfortable ‘lounging’ chairs. I remember riding into the yard, and there was Grandpa, happy to greet us as always, as he watched us head for the Apple tree his kind voice came from behind, “Mikenna, make sure to be careful, don’t ruin your dress!” I of course simply responded “OK!“ and continued on our venture. The moment I climbed that tree, I lost my grip. My dress snagged on a low branch stump and ripped, leaving me with a scrape up my leg. I couldn’t believe it! I had been up that tree thousands of times and never once had I ripped my dress. But somehow Grandpa seemed to know what my fate would be that day. I remember feeling the urge to cry, but swallowing back the tears as I picked myself up off the ground. As we started back home, there was Grandpa out front, he noticed my little incident and instead of giving me the ‘told you so‘ lecture, he gently smiled at me took my hand and led me into the house where Grandma repaired my broken skin. It’s such a simple story, but for some reason that memory has stuck with me. My Grandpa is the biggest tease you ever did meet, but at the same time, he could give you a big bear hug that let you know just how much he loved you.
Grandpa Derek came straight from England as a teenager and with him came that amazing English accent. I spent countless Sunday dinners absolutely captivated by his foreign pronunciation of everyday words. Even in that short time, our birth given names were modified. My name wasn’t Mikenna it was Mikenner, my youngest brother’s name is Nyler, but Grandpa called him “Nyla.” We learned that a flash light was called a torch, and a car trunk is called a ‘boot.’ I never got tired of these conversations. The stories he would tell as we sat in our assigned seats (they weren’t really, but just like church- everyone has their spot) at that oval dinner table were captivating. Imagining how they must of felt when that bomb landed near their home but never detonated, or the smog that would fill the air making it almost impossible to see someone standing in front of you- he said they would lay on their bellies on the sidewalk, and all they could see were the feet moving around. Even all these years later, when I hear his voice, it brings a smile to my face- as kids my brother and I would try our best to imitate him. We didn’t do a very good job, but we got a kick out of it. His accent never gets old. Neither does his homemade English style fish n’ chips with malt vinegar and Lime Rickey’s.
I have a weakness for Lime Rickey’s. I’m not too picky when it comes to the variations but as long as it’s Grape, I will drink it. I thank Grandpa Derek for planting that seed. Ask the rest of the family, my cousins and aunts, Grandpa is famous for his Lime Rickey’s. It was the staple for special occasion when that bubbly drink made it’s appearance, lime and grape juice concentrate mixed with Shasta Lemon Lime soda. I can promise you it didn’t last long. That stuff was gone faster than you could blink the moment he started pouring.
Grandpa’s had a few staples at his house. A bag of Lays Sour Cream and Onion potato chips, a stash of caramel apple suckers, Cadbury bars in the freezer and a year supply of Dr. Pepper in the mud room hallway. He did share... when Grandma prompted him. My daughter experienced this a few years ago. We were at my aunts house for a party sitting under a canopy and Mercedes had a cup she had filled with Lays potato chips. Grandpa then started sneaking a few from her. Instead of chastising him, she went and got him his own cup! He got the biggest kick out of her, but that didn’t stop the teasing. He told her he would eat his and then hers! She gave him that matter-of-fact look and then she went and tattled on him to Grandma Nada. You can guess who’s side Grandma was on...
Grandpa is a sports fan. A loyal Weber State Basketball ticket holder, Manchester Soccer fan and a bench warmer at every game or sport we participated in- now he even attends my daughters dance recitals an hour away from home. You’ll find him at the tennis courts- he is the one on the court, with quick feet a racket in hand. Grandpa always had a metal garbage can in the garage closet filled with tennis balls that had lost their fresh bounce. We used to play baseball with them in the field using a plastic baseball bat. We had the time of our lives.
Papa has a talent that is uncommon. He has absolutely beautiful handwriting but even beyond that, he used to paint signage by hand. Growing up we would make a monthly visit to Farr’s Ice Cream in Ogden, Utah. I loved walking into that shop, the smells of ice cream- they do have a smell, the feel of being in a classic diner, but most of all staring at the big burgundy menu board with white letters on the wall. I stared at it with pride. I loved looking from the menu board to my Grandpa standing there holding his Pralines N’ Cream ice cream cone, and my heart couldn’t have held more love. Grandpa hand painted the menu board- the individual flavors and a side board that listed the ‘scoop’ and ‘dip’ options. There is even an old Farr’s Ice Cream truck that he had painted too. There was a treasure in our home. A little wooden stool, no taller than a foot high, with a poem inscribed in a child-type font lettered on the top.
“This Little Stool is Mine.
I Use it All the Time.
To Reach the Things I Couldn’t,
And Lots of Things I Shouldn’t.”
As a kid I used that stool for exactly that! A few months after my daughter was born, my Grandpa presented me with another treasured stool for my own home. My children now use it to reach “lots of things they shouldn’t.”
Grandpa is a craftsman. His basement has a workshop filled with different varieties of sizes, shapes and types of wood. It wasn’t uncommon to see a new birdhouse on the work bench, or a doll house waiting for it’s shingles to be added. He was amazing with his hands. That little stool I spoke of, was built and beautified with his heart and hands. I loved the smell of the sawdust on the floor, the tools neatly hanging on the wall, and his hand-drawn plans on the workbench and shelves. He was methodical, precise and a ‘measure twice, cut once’ kind of guy.
My Grandpa & Grandma Warnes- The CUTEST couple you ever did see.
My sweet Grandpa Derek may have shared his talents, treats and property with us, but he shared much more than that. He shared an example of determination, and work-ethic. Most importantly, he shared his LOVE with me. I love my Grandpa Derek. I love him with all my heart, and I can’t imagine where life would be without him.
Grandpa is the biggest tease you will ever meet, he taught me to be nothing less....
-Mikenna
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