A Jenn Adventure: Isn't That Somethin'

Instead of writing this blog post, I should be reading.  I’m still pretty far behind in my studies and The Boss is down for a nap.  But I finally know what I want to say… for weeks I’ve been thinking about this entry.  Trying to decide exactly what I wanted to convey and I couldn’t focus my thoughts.  I think my heart was too raw.  And though I am still sad and I am still hurting… I know what I need to say.

“Isn’t that somethin’.”  GDaddy used to say that all the time.  “Baby, how’s the weather in Austin?” he’d ask.  “Well, Granddaddy, it’s rained for 24 hours straight!”  “Well, I’ll be.  Isn’t that somethin’.”  I’ll tell you what… he was somethin’.

My grandfather, Eugean Freeman, was an incredible man.  He was kind and caring.  He had the best laugh and his smiles were infectious.  He loved his family so much that it was impossible to process how big he made your heart feel.  He was patient and smart.  He never got angry or said a cross word to the kids, even when he probably should have.  His way of talking to us was very matter fact in those instances.  He loved animals and sweets.  He never met a stranger.   Everyone was always welcome in his presence.   He was fun.

I owe so much of who I am to my grandfather.  In the past 6 or 7 years, my friends and family have repeatedly pointed out to me how patient I am.  How patient I am with animals, people, and life in general.  There is no doubt in my mind I learned this from Granddaddy (and that it was reinforced by my father, Grandaddy’s middle child).  GDaddy was always so patient with everyone and everything.  

My most cherished memories with my grandfather are the Saturday and Sunday mornings we spent together.  I’m not sure how old I was when I first started tagging along on his morning farm routine.  I was young, though.  I was old enough to fix myself a bowl of cereal and make coffee for my parents, though I had to use a chair to climb on top of the counter to reach the coffee.  I would wake up early, way before the rest of my household.  I would put on a pair of jeans and an old t-shirt, sneak into the kitchen for a small bowl of cereal, make coffee for my parents, and then ease out the front door.  I would sit on the front porch steps, if it was warm enough, and wait.  When I saw that black and grey truck cross the bridge on the highway, I would start walking to the gate to meet him.  At first, I wasn’t big enough to open the gate into our family’s land.  It was incredibly heavy, but I would help him open the gate and hop in the truck with him.  Usually the cows were close by so they were our first stop.  If I could get out of the truck fast enough, I was in the back getting the can of cubes for the bull.  I would hand them over to Granddaddy and he would feed Jack/Jill/Punkin whoever our bull was at the time.  (Yes, the bulls all had names and 95% of the time it was a girl’s name.  I have no idea why…)  Back when we leased a little extra land next to ours, we would make a round through there, just to check up on everything.  Next we went to “the pen” (our corral area) to feed and water any cows we had penned up.  We walked the fences and made sure everything was alright, checked all the gates, and rubbed the cows’ noses.  After that, it was the pond.  We would cross the creek and he would stop the truck, “See any snakes??”  “No sir!” and off we went.  At the pond, we fed the catfish and the ducks.  Checked the flat bottom boat and made sure everything was where it was supposed to be.  Then it was time to head to the Pinkston.  We’d cross the creek and make another quick snake check (what happened if there was a snake?  Bad snakes = shooting practice.) and off we’d go out the front gate and down the road to some leased property where we had another herd of cows.  We’d make a quick round through the land and then head back to my house.  He always came inside to say “Good Morning” and have a cup of coffee with my parents.  He wouldn’t stay long cause “mama” would be looking for him.**

Every Saturday and Sunday morning… it was our time together and I loved it.  I cherished every second of it.  This is where I learned to be kind and patient, to be soft and gentle with those around me.  If you slow down and wait, be gentle and easy, the cows will come and let you rub their noses.  The squirrels will eat pecans off your shoes.  The kittens with their silky, soft, fuzzy hair will rub their cheeks on your knees.  Eventually, everyone will meet you with a smile on their face when they see you coming.  Except the ducks.  The ducks… well, they wouldn’t come to anybody but him.  Ever.  

He taught me how to drive.  Before I was tall enough to reach the pedals, he let me sit in his lap and steer the truck sometimes.  And when I was finally tall enough, he let me drive all by myself.  It’s a wonder I didn’t give us whiplash.  I had such a heavy foot and was full of giddy giggles.  This was one of those times I should have gotten in trouble.  Anyone else would have lost patience and quick!  But not Granddaddy… “Remember, baby, you’ve got to be easy.  Slow and easy…” is all he would say.   I remember when I had earned the privilege of driving the morning route.  I met him at the gate one morning, by this time I was strong enough to open it myself, and when I turned to get in the truck he was sitting on the passenger side.  As I climbed in, put the truck in gear, and let my foot off the brake he said, “Remember, baby, slow and easy.”

He left behind the most incredible group of people that I am overwhelmingly proud to call my family.  He married a wonderful woman and together they raised three very sweet and loving children.  Those children taught their children all the lessons they learned from their Daddy (and Mama).  And those children are teaching their children.  My family is very close and we love each other unconditionally.  I’ve always known I had a special family.  Not many people are that close with their aunts and uncles and cousins.  Not many people are blessed with that kind of love or support system.  My sister and I are the only ones, of our “immediate family*”, that live outside of East Texas.  Sometimes, that’s hard on me.  I miss having everyone in one place to eat, talk, and laugh like we did so many times when I was growing up.  

My grandfather’s passing was 120% bittersweet.  Someone I loved and respected the most in the world is no longer here but in the week that followed his passing, I was able to reconnect with family.  I was able to see him live on in each of them.  He was so much of an incredible man and such a huge part of all of our lives that you can’t help but see bits and pieces of him in each of us.  The laughter and love that was shared that week was amazing.  Returning to Austin was the hardest thing I have had to do in a long time.  

Eugean Freeman’s legacy will live on, even though his physical being will not… Be respectful to everyone.  If something bothers you, say your piece and then let it go.  Be kind, caring, and forgiving.  Laugh when something is funny but not at the expense of someone else’s feelings.  Listen to others.  Think about your actions.  Be patient with those around you.  Give more love than you think you will ever receive.    

He was somethin’…

Hook 'Em Horns!

xoxo Granddaddy!  With all of my love,

~jenni

(jennifree)



*Note from Jenn: I realize that the term “immediate family” really means grandparents, parents, and siblings but my aunts, uncles, and cousins were always around us.  There were, are, and always will be my immediate family.

**Note from Jenn: After his funeral, the "immediate family" all came back to my Daddy's house.  My three older cousins and I loaded up in a truck along with their wives and their children.  One of the boys had requested a "tour" because he hadn't been out on that land before.  Unintentionally I think, our tour followed the same route I mentioned above (minus the extra land next door and the Pinkston section - we no longer lease that land).  We laughed and told stories and all of the little kids listened and laughed and shared their memories of Granddaddy.  At one point, I mentioned how the "roads" were gone and Maddi Grace asked what I meant.  I told her how there used to be roads throughout the pastures because Granddaddy made that exact same route twice a day every day.  I told her about our Saturday and Sunday mornings.  At some point, I realized the entire back end of the truck was completely silent and everyone was listening to my story.  Maddi Grace said, "Jennifer, I wish I had been a little girl when you were a little girl and that I could have done that with Granddaddy too.  That sounds like it was fun."  I had to fight back tears... "Maddi Grace, I wish you had been able to do that too.  It was a lot of fun..."  Unintentionally, my cousins and I paid tribute to my grandfather that evening in the most perfect way possible.  It was the perfect way to end that day.