My Memories Of A Bike

Living across the street from my Papa Gene, I found myself spending every summer day in his humongous- or so my eight year old self thought- pool, treating myself. I was always the kid that thought my grandparents were a God-sent gift to me and I was the luckiest girl in the world. I can still recall the the taste of the orange creamsicle popsicles my grandma would place in a cup outside and let melt before I drank them because she knew that was my favorite way to eat them. I definitely spent the sweetest of summers at that small house with the huge pool. While many childhood memories were made at my grandparent’s house, the one picture that will burn in my head until the end of time will be the one

He showed me that chivalry can be used in everyday activities, that it isn’t just found in courage and honor. It is also in keeping a door open for a woman. It is imbedded in paying for a woman’s check, helping your infant grandson up a flight of stairs, it is in the basic things we do that make us civilized human. I do believe that what he taught me on this matter made me into more of a gentleman, too. He was my role model who showed me how to treat others, and how to be a good man. I would never be where I was now without the almost fatherly affection he showed. He was always right next to me during our fishing trips to teach me something new. Along with this, he showed me my first real view of humor. Not of some obscure and strange youtube video that everybody laughs at because it has profanity and informal topics, I mean honest humor. Something that is rare today. He was also my best male role model, as I have no father in my household, and I would rather learn from a gentleman than my brother. I learned so much from him, and I only wish I could have known him for a longer period of time. But the most important life lesson he taught me was grit. He showed me the little part of every person that makes them say no to giving up, that makes them go through with a challenge even when it seems hopeless. He showed me that in any fight, you can never give up. He always told me to work my

The first time I ever rode a dirt bike was when I was the age ten and then I never rode another one until I was fifteen years old. This is relevant because to learn how to ride a dirtbike takes time and help from others. My father had been riding dirt bikes and quads since he was a child, so when I needed help I looked up to him. I was clueless on how to operate a dirt bike until I asked my dad for help. Now I can ride a motorized bike with no problem!

We would go and do all kinds of things together and those days account for some of my earliest memories. As her first grandchild, we developed a great relationship that we still have today. When the time finally came for me to go to school, it was tough for my Nana to not have me at home every day, but for my parents they couldn’t be more proud of their little boy. My first years of school were great. I was fortunate to have my mother as my kindergarten teacher, but when first grade came so did my first life changing experience. On August 23, 2005, Hurricane Katrina struck the Mississippi Gulf Coast. That day I woke up, the skies a haunting grey, as the storm moved inland reports of flooding, strong winds, and even tornados came over the television, as my family prepared for the storm’s impact. Sadly, Hattiesburg got the worst Katrina had to offer. The eye of the storm moved directly over us, and when the eye wall struck is when my entire family wondered if it would be our final day on this Earth. At this point, the power had gone out and we sat in an eerie darkness, only equal to that of a war zone. The only sound we could hear was whipping of the wind and pounding of the

However, one character in my life was never ordinary; in fact, he was the exact definition of extraordinary. My “papaw” became my favorite playmate, my other half, and my best friend. We were commonly referred to as "two peas in a pod" and " each other's pride and joy." I loved my grandpa in the deepest, most sincere way a young child could. As I grew older, my grandpa assumed the role of my confidant and supporter. When my grandmother would scold me or when my sister and I would argue, I knew that I could retreat into the loving arms of my grandfather. The only thing that he ever did to upset me was when he said, "When I go, I'll miss everyone, but I'll miss you the most, Bug." Little did I know, I would soon long to hear these

I never really knew my grandpa as well as I would have liked. He was already an old, old man by the time I started high school, and my own memories of him are mostly of a man confined by age and ailing health. So I'm not really going to talk about my memories of him. Instead, I'm going to try to share his memories and the memories of those that knew him.

Some of my favorite moments with my grandfather were how we always did everything together. I was glad I lived with my grandparents. Stuff with my actual family weren’t the best, because they thought they couldn’t handle me. My grandfather and I had so much fun throughout the years. We enjoyed going for ice cream the most. We always had the same ice cream every once in a while, but occasionally we would change it up a little. We usually grabbed chocolate ice cream for a treat, but sometimes we would decide we want a twist ice cream. I loved spending time with my grandfather.

Exposition: Have you ever had your bike stop out of nowhere, and you not know why? Pedaling but not moving anywhere. Feeling stuck, or even tipping over! Ouch, that really hurts! One morning I was my own savior. It was when I learned how to fix a chain on a bicycle wheel.

My siblings and I would go over to my great grandparents house on weekdays, I would always bring the rocking horse there. My grandpa was a oakie so we would always watch his black and white cowboy shows, while watching these shows I would be on the horse rocking back and forward. During these cowboy shenanigans our favorite snack to eat was my great grandma’s homemade cornbread with a glass of milk, the cornbread would smell sweet and feel warm. In the backyard of the house was my great grandpa’s shed, when he would weld or do who knows what, I’d be right by him on my rocking horse.

I distinctly remember the weeknights at his house. Sitting upon his lap, walking down the street, getting pulled in my wagon through a park--these were things I loved doing with Grandpa. I was not just another person to him: I was the ultimate grandson, and I was special.

My Grandpa has passed away this year and every day I miss him more and more .But I will never forget how much he loved me. He was always so helpful to people even if he didn't know them .And this is the beginning of my story to tell all of you.One day my mom got a call from my grandma and she was in Michigan when it all happened. My Grandpa was in the hospital because he was badly sick.My mom didn’t want to tell us because we would all get sad.

The first time i rode a bike was in 2012. I was in 2nd grade at that time and my other friends did not need training wheels. My dad taught me. It was spring and there were barely any clouds in the sky. My dad took the training wheels off and I sat down. At first I went slowly. My dad held onto the back while I practiced pedaling. We practiced this for several hours and when it was getting dark we went inside. The next day I practiced pedaling again. But, my dad had let go and I did not even notice! By the time that I realized, he had caught up to me and I did not fall. The next time that he did that, I lost balance and I fell. I started crying and my dad told me not to give up.

The crunch of frozen grass could be heard a mile away at five o’clock in the morning. My grandpa and I whispered conversation as we strolled over to our favorite deer blind. We cautiously marched over sticks trying hard not to make any sounds. We eventually made it without spooking any deer and set our guns down, waiting for sunrise. These are the times I enjoy the most with my grandpa. It is a chance to sit back and enjoy life with one of my favorite people on this planet. Time goes slower in these moments. It gives us a chance to share conversation about anything. We swap stories from the past and I always seem to learn something new from my grandpa. Whether it be from advice he gives me or from an experience long ago, I’m always listening. Although our experiences may be different we still love to enjoy the same hobbies together, whether it’s woodworking, hunting, or time out on the lake; sharing life with my grandpa is priceless.

For many people, Grandpa is a storyteller, someone to go fishing with, and someone who has your back no matter what. The experience I had with my grandpa was a little different. I never got the opportunity to meet my great-grandfather Liston Grider, but he still somehow managed to have a huge impact on my life. Sometimes my mom would tell stories about him; happy memories from her childhood, sad ones that were painful for her to tell, and everything in between. I thought I had heard it all, but this past summer I learned something about my great grandpa that would perhaps impact my life forever. This story was not told by my mom like usual, but by someone who was a complete stranger to me. The lessons I learned would not be taught in a single day, but over the span of a month through a series of Facebook messages and letters in the mail. The words I read upon opening those messages and letters would change my life forever, permanently transform my beliefs, and show me what it truly means to be an American.

When we were together we were invincible, us against the world. I’d look up to him, not only because he was 6’4, but because he was my grandpa. I have clear memories of him picking me up from school, playing old school reggae music during our adventurous car rides. We’d always sing along to our favorites, sometimes turn the music up so loud the people in the cars next to us could hear it. When I would visit his apartment, the familiar smell of drywall and pennies would fill the air. It was my hideaway, my home away from home. My grandpa collected pennies in water jugs. He would say that one day they’d be worth more than just pennies. I loved it there, not only because he had a freezer filled with many flavors of ice cream to which he would often say to me “you can have all you can eat” but because it was our time to bond. For five years it was my mom, my dad, and my grandpa helping me to grow. Those are my favorite people, my role models. Being around my grandpa brought me such comfort and joy.