Pop & Pictures

I don't usually post something without pictures but I had two interesting things happen to me yesterday that I wanted to share.

The first story starts with my wife's grandfather who we call Pop. Pop is man's man. He worked hard labor all his life and would give and do anything for his family. Even if he tends to come off rather harsh. Especially since the man has a mouth like a trucker.

Awhile back, Pop got diagnosed with Prostate Cancer. He'll be on Chemo for the rest of his life so now this man who is used doing his own work and being independent can't do the things he used to. Knowing that he was gonna need help chopping and bringing in wood for his wood stove I called him to tell him not to touch it and that I would be over on Sunday to take care of it. I fully expected him to fight me on it. What I got was one of funniest conversations I've ever had with the man. It went a little something like this. . .

(Phone Rings)

POP: Vaughn's Whorehouse.
ME: Haha, hey Pop!
POP: Well you gonna place an order or what?
ME: Sure, I'm gonna need a woman with a lot of experience.
POP: Oh, yeah I've got one of those. You gotta spit on it to get it started but she's good to go after that.
ME: HAHAHAH!! Oh my god, Pop!
POP: What's going on, kid?
ME: Not much, Pop. I was just calling to let you know that I'm coming to take care of your wood on Sunday. So don't touch it.
POP: Oooh, you don't wanna come over on Sunday.
ME: Why not?
POP: Cause Pat (his wife) cleans on Sundays.
ME: So?
POP: She cleans in her nightgown with no underwear on. So when she bends over pick something up you get a shot of an old man with a gray beard and no teeth.

I was speechless after that. I did eventually manage to get him to say he wouldn't touch the wood and to let me handle it. But God bless him, he made me work for it.

***

The other thing that happened last night was rather sad. It brought to mind a song by The Cure called "Pictures of You".

"I've been looking so long at these pictures of you that I almost believe that you're real"

It's one of my all time favorite songs by Mr. Smith. It's about loss and wanting and maybe even nostalgia for a person or place in time that was so special you know it will never come again in your entire lifetime and these little bits of emulsion on paper are your only link to those lost feelings. To me it's such a sad thing to see photographs in the trash, or even in old magazines as the person pictured is - or was - real and they lived and loved and hurt and dreamed and sometimes this is the final reminder that this person existed.

Last night I was walking the dog and I spotted among this huge mound of broken chairs and discarded lamps and obsolete computer components a huge pegboard with perhaps 50 or so pictures still attached. I took it and removed all the photos, which appeared to be a young woman's happy college years, a wedding and class photos of close friends. I tried to return them because surely they were accidentally discarded. . . Why would someone trash all those happy moments? The answer was the new occupants of the house had just rented the dwelling and apparently all the previous owned possessions were left behind inexplicably. Perhaps she died, or was physically unable to retrieve them. In any case, it made me sad to return these special moments in time to the garbage heap of history - someone lived, loved, and was loved and should be remembered.If it means anything at all, I'll do my best to remember them.