My Grandpa Keith 1965

When I was eight my grandpa Keith died of Pancreatic cancer. I don’t remember too much about that time in my life but I do remember it was the first time I had ever seen my dad cry. My sister, brothers and older cousins have more memories of my grandpa than I do but the things I do remember about him are fresh in my mind today. He always had lifesavers, root beer candy or Certs in his right shirt pockets and the left pocket held a pack of Camel cigarettes. I remember climbing on his lap and asking him for a piece of candy he would reach in his pocket and hand me the roll. Sometimes after school or in the summertime I would hang out with him and my grandma. I would help with his garden and collect eggs from the chickens. He was a man of few words with a kind heart and a big smile. I never heard him yell or get mad but I have no doubt he did considering he and my grandma had six kid’s (one girl and five boys). To tell you the truth this post started out to be about my Uncle Noah (my Grandpas brother) but as you can see that didn’t happen this time. I’ll save my Uncle Noah for another day because today is for Grandpa Keith.