The sirens woke me about 4:15 last Tuesday, April 11. It wasn’t a tornado warning, but a call for volunteer firefighters. The Tutwiler Dollar General has burned. Only two miles from home, it was a real convenience for us, but it was more than that.
For Chester, going to town was something to do. I promise, he went to the DG mall about three times a day. I never bothered to make a list; I just knew he’d be going again pretty soon.
Then Wednesday rolls around, and at 5:00, I receive a text from my daughter in Iowa that my granddaughter is in labor a week early. So, coffee on, and with the house quiet, the memories return to my own labors, then my grandchildren’s.
My most precious delivery memory: Chester and I were in the delivery room with my son and daughter-in-law during their second son’s delivery. The nurse handed the scissors to my son to cut the cord, at which time he sat down feeling faint. I jumped in, cut the cord and they took the baby away for weighing and cleaning.
The next thing we knew, here comes Chester with the baby boy, looking down at this miracle, being all proud Grandpa of the Year. He finally gave the baby to his mother, and that was 16 years ago. A few months ago, Chester taught him to drive on these Westside back roads, just like 10 years before when he taught the new mama how to drive on these roads starting with driving over Enid Dam.
I’m not a hoarder, but I still have the blue and white short-sleeved, checkered shirt Chester wore when he was waltzing around with that grandson carrying him to his mama.
