grandpa
From the moment the were born, my dad’s grandbabies loved to cuddle up with their grandpa and take a little snooze. He just had a way of making them feel safe and warm…not to mention loved. Dad always loved to take a little nap, when his schedule would allow, and so became the logical choice for a nap time babysitter. Those little babies just loved their grandpa so much, that they seemed to actually be reaching out to hold on to him, and it didn’t matter how small they were. These pictures are among those that we wouldn’t trade for all the gold in the world. They are the moments that you can never get back, because babies just don’t stay this little for more than a minute. They are a glimpse of the past that we can’t ever get back.
My dad had a way with little kids. They just seemed to gravitate to him. He was a great friend, playmate, and a great snuggler at nap time. It always seemed like at some point during our visits, those babies and little kids would get tired after all the playing, as would my dad, and they would end up on the couch, where both would be sound asleep. When we would notice that things had gotten awfully quiet, we would tiptoe out to the living room fully expecting to find two exhausted playmates, sound asleep on the couch…and that is exactly what we would find. Grandpa and grandchild, often with a blankie or some such bedtime item to cuddle with. These moments were always so cute that they must be captured in a picture that always brings a collective “Awwwwwww!!” comment from those who see them.
Every so often, we would be treated to one of the cutest pictures, when a grandchild trying to be just like grandpa would so closely follow in grandpa’s footsteps that it was like looking in a mirror. I suppose that originally, Ryan was sitting on grandpa’s lap, but he slowly slid down into the gap between the seat of the chair and the foot rest, to end up looking just like his grandpa, but a little further down in the chair. It would prove to be one of the treasured pictures of grandson wanting to be just like grandpa…and maybe succeeding…just a little. My dad’s grandchildren all loved him so much, and thought so highly of him that they wanted to spend time with him…mimic him…play with him…and mostly love him. And all of them were greatly blessed to have known him.
We have all at one time or another in our lives, been interested in horses. It just seems to be in our nature. We might go from a rocking horse, to a stick horse, to one on wheels, and eventually to one that is powered by horses. We even name our cars, school mascots, teams, etc, after horses a lot!! There is no doubt…we love horses.
When I was little I had a favorite rocking horse, that I trained to make ruts in my mother’s hardwood floor. We also had a German Shepherd dog named King, that my sisters and I used for our horse…and he was just gentle and kind enough to allow that.
My girls had a stick pony that my father-in-law made for them, which they loved. He gave them the ponies when they were 2 or 3, and they rode them for hours. Oh, the adventures they had! They headed out west, to play Cowboys and Indians…or just rode out across the plains to see what might lay on the other side of the hill…all this of course, in their imaginations, because they never really left the yard. But, that didn’t seem to matter. In their minds, they were explorers, or cowgirls, or just country girls out on a lark. They were on their ponies…just like at Grandma Hein’s ranch.
We went to visit Grandma and Grandpa Hein every summer, and my girls just adored them. Going to their ranch was that adventure come true. They explored the barn and found eggs hidden outside the chicken coop, where the hen was hoping to keep them safe for hatching, and avoid having them used for breakfast. They wandered over that next hill to see what might be there, and found an old play house where they would spend countless hours living in the old west.
And…they would get the chance to ride a real horse once in a while. Grandpa 
Hein would set them up on a huge horse, bareback, because their feet wouldn’t reach the sturrips on a saddle anyway, and he would lead them around the corral, while in their heads, they would build a story of being a real cowgirl in the old west.
Our trips to Grandma and Grandpa Hein’s ranch every summer were a rare treasure that my girls got to have, and one I will always be glad we gave them. Grandma and Grandpa Hein always made them feel so very special, as they did Bob and me. They were Bob’s grandma and step grandpa, but to us that didn’t matter. Grandpa was just Grandpa, and they were wonderful. We love and miss you both!!
When I was a little girl, we had the most amazing German Shepherd dog ever. His name was King…for short. My parents actually named him LarKing Raesuekayal Vonlished. I can’t say for sure that I spelled that correctly, but if you sound it out, you will come pretty close to the correct pronunciation of his name. King was named after all for my sisters and me. Middle names were used for the three older girls, and the first part of the first name on my younger two sisters. Mom and Dad wanted his name to have special meaning. And it always has.
King was just about the greatest dog ever. When we were little he gave us girls “horsey” rides, and seemed to love doing it. He was very loving. King loved having the neighborhood kids come in to play, but we did have to tell them not to climb the fence without one of us girls there. Dad trained him not to bite obviously, but even more, you could put your arm in his mouth, and he would never even let his teeth touch your arm. But when it came to protecting his family, watch out. He wouldn’t have to bite…his bark was usually enough. He did bite one time, when a neighborhood boy was throwing rocks at him…boy was he in trouble with his mom when she found out. She wouldn’t even let the police issue any kind of ticket or warning, of course there was the required quarantine, but that was all.
The funniest thing King ever did though, was one time when my mom’s dad came over for a visit. Mom was on the phone when Grandpa knocked on the door. She motioned him to come in, and went on with her conversation. A few minutes later, she realized that he hadn’t come in. Thinking that he hadn’t heard, she motioned again. Then, she realized what the problem was. King was “guarding” the door. She said, “King, you let him in!!” She said it was the only time she had seen a dog smile. King sheepishly looked away, with a grin on his face, and my grandfather was able to come inside. I really miss that dog!!
