Life and Stuff

Every once in a while it's good to jump into the Chevy with grandpa and go see where I'm from. You quickly realize though that the joke old people tell about knowing more people in the ground than on top of it isn't really a joke. We visit some old houses, the one where he was born, the one where he grew up in, but soon enough we end up where a lot of the people he knows are, the cemetery. It's a strange trip and a strange trip to try to photograph. I tried though, and this is what I got. 

The growing up house. In my grandpa's 80 plus years he managed to end up a quarter mile from the house he grew up in. Two hundred yards from the school house he went to where he met my grandma.
 The building on the right was a gas station and grocery when he was growing up. I've heard about the guys playing cards in there while smoking till the Wheaties tasted like cigarettes. I've heard about the local guys Luke, Wook and Pook all walking through the door right after each other. Actually, I hear that stupid story every time I see my grandpa. I've heard about my aunt gaining ten pounds as a kid when she got to stay at her grandma's and got to get a treat from the station every night. 

I didn't know Uncle Bob that well. I mostly remembered him coming over sometime during the holidays and bringing my grandpa a bottle of something or other and they would drink a few glasses on the porch and talk. Years later I found all those bottles in my grandpa's closet, all with just a few glasses drunk out of them. 

His big brother died though a little over a year ago and no matter how much he saw it coming in the end it was he was still his big brother.

Grandpa being grandpa, always hates his photo being taken, always tries to get the hand in front of the face. 

This is the house my grandpa was born in. 

Shiawassee Township...this be my roots. 

Still driving. Left turn signal on. Scaring the kids. 

Funny how much time, effort and work you can put in on earth and for a lot of us this is about all that's left besides the memories. This is my great great grandparents grave. 

Eat your heart out John Wayne. 

My grandpa was diagnosed with cancer after this trip down cemetery lane. He probably doesn't have all that much time left. 

It's funny I grew up kind of fearing that my grandparents would be gone soon and they never were. All four are still around. Of all of them though it was my Grandpa Bedell here that always seemed the most frustrated at getting old. He had his own sheet metal business for most of his life. His physicality was his livelihood. Whether it was forming metal with his strong, scraped up hands or scaling ladders to lean out and hammer spikes into dusty eaves. He used to scale his 30 foot flagpole to put up a new flag when the rope would bust. 

Slowly though his body has failed him. Now, maybe for the last time. 

I've found it hard to enjoy my last moments with my grandpa when I feel sure that there is officially a cap put on my time with him. It's too sad, too awkward, too ominous to enjoy. I never want to see someone go slowly, selfishly I don't want it to taint my memory of who they were. I want to remember him stronger than me, arguing politics at the table after dinner with mustard on his chin and a clint in his eye. 

I'm thankful I do have the memories though. A lot of people don't get that chance. I also have pictures to remind me. It may be the best reason I know to keep taking pictures.