Fearsome foursome

Magnet #445 - Philippines Fish

I picked this up during the last visit to the Philippines. Weird how I came home with two fish magnets, plus a seahorse. That trip was the last time I saw my last remaining grandparent, though - in a hurried welcome home at the airport.

It's funny what you remember about your grandparents...

I don't remember my dad's mom - I think she passed either before I was born, or when I was a baby. I dimly remember going to the cemetery to visit her, I think.

My mom's dad, I remember living with us for a little while when I was maybe 8 or 9 or 10. I remember going to some weird factory to pick up Linotype letter pieces for his printing press back home. For those of you that grew up with me, he's the one whose ghost used to stir his coffee at the kitchen table of the old house, in the middle of the night. During that rare sleepover, I remember at least one person trying to stay up to see if they could see him.

My mom's mom, I remember most, because she was probably in and out of the house the most and the longest before she passed. She loved hanging out with my baby sisters more, mostly because I had quite a mouth on me when I was younger. (Still do, truth be told.) Every morning before school, we'd play tug-of-war with the blankets, and I'd argue everything under the sun with her, right down to just a few years ago, when I tried to explain to her that the priest told us during the sermon that I didn't have to go to church just to pray.

And, as for my dad's dad, who passed away at 92 yesterday in the Philippines, there's a ton of stuff I remember about him. For instance, right about now, I'm craving one specialty of his that I've never been able to duplicate - no matter how hard I try. Egg fried rice. No, not the kind that you get at the Chinese restaurants, or even the supergood kind my dad makes...but just dropping a regular old egg into leftover rice and frying it up. I swear, it's the best thing you've ever had.

One tangible thing we have from him is this gorgeous Victorian dollhouse that he built from scratch. Two stories, with a wraparound porch, and a hinged rooftop for the attic bedrooms, and meticulously painted blue and white. I remember outfitting that thing with the best dollhouse furniture, lighted fixtures, carpets and wallpaper. It's quite simply fabulous.

Anyway, over the years, that dollhouse got filed away with time, a little bit like my grandparents, taken for granted, because it's just something we've always grown up with.

Now, the fearsome foursome are somewhere above, knowing every little secret in every corner of my life.

Hmm. I dunno how I feel about that.

*waves to Heaven*