Originally posted on myspace Monday, July 14, 2008:
I had a sensory overload moment this weekend. I have pretty heightened senses. Usually I can find a memory in a song (ask Carra). Michael and the kids call me rabbit ears, because I hear every little comment even when I'm in another room. It's impossible not to overhear most conversations in a restaurant. My true super-power is my sense of smell. Each scent seems to take me to a person, place or thing.
This weekend, I bought a pair of boots. My first pair of actual cowgirl boots since I was a youngster. Like most things I pick for myself, the boots are plain. Nothing fancy, just some boots to call my own. As soon as I got in the car I pulled them from the bag and had my "Mary-Catherine" moment. I put the new leather to my nose and huffed at it like a teenager in a drain tunnel.
Immediately I was filled with memories. Memories that were my own, but completely forgotten. I have three paternal Grandfathers. One that I never knew (met once) and he means nothing really to me. My current one, Papa, that I consider my closest Grandfather figure. He has been constant in my life since my early teens and he loves me and really loves my Grandmother. He's a good man that entered the picture with some serious resentment, because he had big shoes to fill. Those shoes were boots and they belonged to my Grandpa Bill. He was the head of our family and he died when I was about 8.
Grandpa Bill married my Grams when she already had 4 kids. He raised them as his own and added two more to the family. All six of those kids still love that man. Obviously he influenced them in ways that lasted for generations. Some kids in our family that were born after he died, speak of him as if they knew him. He grew up in Minnesota and he and Grandma moved the family to Sunday Canyon (outside Amarillo) after Grandma fell in love with the area on a visit in the early 70s. Grandpa built a house, with his own two hands that was amazing. Really it should have been part of his legacy, but it's not in our family anymore.
Until this weekend, I didn't have very many memories of Grandpa Bill that I trusted as real. No memories that I didn't feel were placed there by stories family had told me. Now I do. While smelling the new leather boot, I had a sensory overload! It was like in the movies when your life flashes before your eyes in snapshots and moments. First it was a saddle. My Grandparents had horses. Actually they had their own stable. They also owned a place called Six Gun City outside Palo Duro Canyon. We all had chances to be part of the background of the simulated gunslinger town. There was everything from my cousins and I riding bareback horses around town to our parents participating in gunfights. Good times.
Most of those memories, I will keep to myself, but I have to admit it was great to remember the feel of his enormous hand enveloping my tiny fingers. He was a big man. We are talking more than size here. Grandpa Bill and I had a special bond. My Dad says Grandpa liked that I had such an attitude already at a young age. I don't know what he means though. I don't have an attitude. I do have some pretty cool boots, though.
I had a sensory overload moment this weekend. I have pretty heightened senses. Usually I can find a memory in a song (ask Carra). Michael and the kids call me rabbit ears, because I hear every little comment even when I'm in another room. It's impossible not to overhear most conversations in a restaurant. My true super-power is my sense of smell. Each scent seems to take me to a person, place or thing.
This weekend, I bought a pair of boots. My first pair of actual cowgirl boots since I was a youngster. Like most things I pick for myself, the boots are plain. Nothing fancy, just some boots to call my own. As soon as I got in the car I pulled them from the bag and had my "Mary-Catherine" moment. I put the new leather to my nose and huffed at it like a teenager in a drain tunnel.
Immediately I was filled with memories. Memories that were my own, but completely forgotten. I have three paternal Grandfathers. One that I never knew (met once) and he means nothing really to me. My current one, Papa, that I consider my closest Grandfather figure. He has been constant in my life since my early teens and he loves me and really loves my Grandmother. He's a good man that entered the picture with some serious resentment, because he had big shoes to fill. Those shoes were boots and they belonged to my Grandpa Bill. He was the head of our family and he died when I was about 8.
Grandpa Bill married my Grams when she already had 4 kids. He raised them as his own and added two more to the family. All six of those kids still love that man. Obviously he influenced them in ways that lasted for generations. Some kids in our family that were born after he died, speak of him as if they knew him. He grew up in Minnesota and he and Grandma moved the family to Sunday Canyon (outside Amarillo) after Grandma fell in love with the area on a visit in the early 70s. Grandpa built a house, with his own two hands that was amazing. Really it should have been part of his legacy, but it's not in our family anymore.
Until this weekend, I didn't have very many memories of Grandpa Bill that I trusted as real. No memories that I didn't feel were placed there by stories family had told me. Now I do. While smelling the new leather boot, I had a sensory overload! It was like in the movies when your life flashes before your eyes in snapshots and moments. First it was a saddle. My Grandparents had horses. Actually they had their own stable. They also owned a place called Six Gun City outside Palo Duro Canyon. We all had chances to be part of the background of the simulated gunslinger town. There was everything from my cousins and I riding bareback horses around town to our parents participating in gunfights. Good times.
Most of those memories, I will keep to myself, but I have to admit it was great to remember the feel of his enormous hand enveloping my tiny fingers. He was a big man. We are talking more than size here. Grandpa Bill and I had a special bond. My Dad says Grandpa liked that I had such an attitude already at a young age. I don't know what he means though. I don't have an attitude. I do have some pretty cool boots, though.
Grandpa Bill
Grandpa Bill and Grandma (Circa Six Gun City)
Six Gun City Postcard
My Papa this year
No attitude from this Angel. . . 
My good smellin' boots
Currently listening: Ultimate Waylon Jennings By Waylon Jennings
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