The Keeper of the Gate: Grandpa Jim

I would like to write about my Grandpa Jim.  I think of him often.  I remember how he smelt and how his whistling sounded in the morning while he drank his coffee listening to the radio.  I remember the toothpick he would keep in his mouth and move back and forth from one side to the other.  I remember loving mules because he loved them and laughing at his "mule farts smell like roses jokes."  I remember sitting around a campfire in the dark listening to him strum his guitar and sing.  I loved listening to him sing.  I could listen for hours on end.  I remember one time he sang "Amanda, light of my life..." Then there were the times we would go to the rodeos with him and I would think that none of those guys out there on the bulls or horses could hold a candle to my Grandpa.  I remember when he gave my Grandma jewelry that he made her from old Indian beads.  He always made sure to attend my basketball games and always had a smart remark about how I don't have a beat when dancing.  I remember listening to he and my grandma playing at the Elks.  We loved going to listen and dance with all the other old timers.  I couldn't keep a beat then either, but we loved flirting with the old men!  I remember watching my Grandpa's hands tap to the rhythm of the music as he listened to it and the way his voice would crack as he yodeled. I remember how his lips would curl around a corn cob.  I remember when my grandpa came to our house to bury our dog after he was run over on the road and the tears in his eyes as he left.  I remember my Grandpa riding up our driveway on his mule Billy Jo to take me on my first ride on my mare Tweet.  I remember interviewing him about his life on several occasions.  The one thing that has never left me from those conversations are his words, "Work hard enough it will be impossible for them to want to fire you.  You will always have work." I remember watching the twinkle in his eye when he had guests over and was able to entertain them. I remember getting the phone call that he had been in an accident.  I remember gathering with my family in the music room listening to him sing and play his guitar knowing that it would be the last time in this life that I would be able to dance to his songs.  I remember getting the call that we needed to come home now.  I remember walking in his house with all of our family around us and bending down in front of his face so he could see me.  For a brief second I know he recognized me with a small twinkle in his eye.  I remember my family gathered around his bed as he slipped away to heaven.  I did not have sorrow from his death, maybe from anticipation of missing him, but not because his mortal life had come to a close.  I remember listening to the "Keeper of the Gate" being sung by him at his funeral and knowing that our family will be an eternal family one day.  My Grandpa was an amazing man and an admirable example of what hard work will earn you.