No One Messed With His Grandkids

 And . . . no one messed with his grandkids.

STORY: During the time Pop had the pizza shop, we (Pop's grandkids) received a threat from a customer he refused to serve, when the man came in drunk. Every morning, Pop would walk us to school and came back in the afternoon to walk us home, carrying either his double-barrel shotgun, that put food on our table, or the two handle pizza blade that resembled a square machete - a very large one. This was open carry before open carry in a state that does not have that law. Pop really didn't care. In our neighborhood, word spread through stunned parents and children alike, the Kenner kids had a guardian angel. 

 

STORY: In previous text, I mentioned that Mother could never spank my brother; everything she tried backfired by breaking. Pop had an issue with my brother and told Jerry to go to the yard to find a switch so Pop could spank him with it. When seven-year-old Jerry drug a very large tree limb to the door, Pop laughed so hard that my brother got a reprieve.

 

 

 

On holidays that Mother either worked or socialized with friends, we would stay up late and have a family party. New Year's Eve and Fourth of July were great times for this. Pop would play the spoons and we would dance. He taught us old folk songs like "The Ol' Oaken Bucket" and "The Erie Canal". There was always a treat that he acquired with some change he managed to save from grocery money; a soda, chips or candy.

 

When we were younger, he was constantly on us to pick up our toys. He particularly hated the ones left on the stairs. We turned a deaf ear, as children do. Sometimes it was just that we forgot. Sometimes, it was just being lazy. We got home from school one particular afternoon to find our toys in the yard and it was raining. "Leave 'em there", he said and that was all that was ever said about the matter. The rain ruined the toys and we never left them underfoot again. Period.

 

He preferred psychology to physical discipline whenever possible and it worked. Children need guidelines in order to feel secure. Indeed, decades later, I used the same psychology on a couple step children at the time. Actions do speak louder than words.

 

When we got sick and couldn't sleep, we knew we could wake Pop and he would sit with us in the kitchen over a glass of juice or tea to pass the time, rather than suffer alone. "Don't wake your mother. She has to get up for work." Many nights were spent at the kitchen table listening to his stories of childhood. Sometimes, he would have a candy bar stashed away just for this occasion.

* This is what our Lord does. When you spend time with Him, it is always a treat.

 

This time was mainly for my sister and me. Pop and my brother had difficulty relating as Jerry got older. Jerry had trouble coming to terms with not having a father. My brother, and his dog, spent his adolescent years in his room with model cars and motorcycle magazines. He didn't get along in school and became solitary until he quit at sixteen. Mother agreed, as long as he got a job. He did - and bought a motorcycle. At seventeen, she signed the permit papers for him to join the Marines.

 

Continued . . .

* This continuing story begins with the post on Dec. 19, 2024