My Grandpa and Me

Originally Written Between 2017-2020                       

 

I had two grandpas – just like most folks.  My mom’s dad lived in Forest Lake and owned the local meat market.  Grandma and Grandpa Lehecka only lived three blocks from me.  They attended all of my birthday parties.  I still have a picture of Grandpa giving me a 50-cent piece for my birthday.  I was so thrilled.  Grandpa learned how to roller skate so he could skate with my sister and me.  He played the concertina and loved to dance.  In fact, when my sister got married, Grandpa was the very first one out on the dance floor – even before the bride and groom!  He was such fun.

 

But, my dad’s dad, Grandpa Vogel, is the grandpa I’d like to talk about today.  He was the mysterious one – mainly because he lived in Florida and I really only met him about 10 times before he died at the age of 84.  My very first memory of him was when I was seven years old.  I was in second grade and our family had driven to Florida during our Christmas break.  

 

Now, I don’t remember my Grandma Vogel at all.  I know I must have had some sort of conversation with her because I’ve seen the pictures of all of us in their home.  It was Grandpa who took me under his wing.  Every afternoon, it was Grandpa’s tradition to take a three-block walk down a little dirt road to the local tavern.  One day, he brought me.  Yes, me.  Alone.  No sister.  No brother.  Just me and Grandpa.  Grandpa and me.  I was the chosen one!  I don’t remember if we had any big conversations or not – he probably asked me about my friends, school, and my hobbies and I remember him telling me about the different flowers along the road.  When we entered the tavern, he introduced me to all his friends – He told them that I was the granddaughter from Minnesota and I was in second grade and the prettiest girl in town.  He let me sit on a tall bar stool and ordered me a glass of 7-Up.  I just felt so grown up and proud.  

 

During that trip, we visited some of the tourist attractions.  Disney World had not been invented then – but we did have Wicki Wacki Springs where you could watch the “mermaids” swim underwater and “dance” to piped-in ballet music.  I left that theme park dreaming of being a ballerina.  

 

There also was Cypress Gardens – that started out as a botanical garden with acres and acres of beautiful landscaping.  Soon, the Southern Bells attraction was introduced in which young women dressed in the crinolines reminiscent of the Antebellum South walked slowly around the gardens with their umbrellas to protect them from the sun.  Well, forget being a ballerina.  Now, I wanted to be a Southern Bell!

 

That meant, of course, that a trip to the gift shop was in order.  Mary needed a Southern Bell doll or a dress, or at least an umbrella!  I honestly don’t remember if I received any of those items.  All I remember is my Grandpa showing me all around the gift shop and looking for the right gift for me.  And, he gave me the perfect gift.  A small bottle of Orange Blossom perfume.  Oh, how I loved that orange blossom smell.  I treasured that small bottle and used it for special occasions only.

 

That bottle lasted quite a few years.  And every time I opened it, I thought of my wonderful grandpa who treated me as if I was the most special granddaughter on earth!  I would then picture him treating me to a 7-Up and paying for the perfume.

 

I’ve been to Florida several times since second grade.  And, each time I go into a Florida gift shop, I look for Orange Blossom perfume and buy a couple of bottles to tied me over until the next time I’m in Florida.  It’s my special way of remembering my grandpa.