Take off your hat, I want to stand up.

Chapter 19: Sorry about that.

Chapter 19: Sorry about that.

Grandpa puts in new washroom.

Grandpa owned and operated Blair Bros. Plumbing and heating for many years. His Code was based on honesty. He gave an honest day's work for an honest hard earned dollar. He knew want in his life. He knew hard tack times. He was aware of others and grew to have a firm country philosophy of treating your neighbours and friends with honest respect. He valued the worth in people. His word was his bond and a hand shake meant a deal. A deal was honoured. A man of faith. A man of a personal God. A Lord God he sought for timely advise. He would search the scriptures until a clear path was offered to solve the problem. He was not a preacher, he was a believer.

I cannot remember a time grandpa did not wear a tie around his collared neck, heavy trucker suspenders to hold up his trousers. When he went out, he wore a broad brimmed hat, to protect his bald head. He was not dapper. He was functional. He paid his bills on time and expected others to do the same.

To say he knew the value of a dollar would be to diminish the dollar as a medium of exchange. In fact he knew the value of a penny. He would say, save enough pennies and you have a dollar. He used to work stoking wheat sheaves for ten to twelve hours each and everyday for a dollar.

When we were young string bean toddlers he would hold out a ham fisted finger with a quarter wedged between the knuckle and the index finger. He would grin, if you can get this quarter out of my hand you can have it. We swam on his arm, feet off the ground trying to wrestle the money loose, no way on this side of providence would the quarter budge. He was an old tin smith with wired steel fingers and a golden grip. He would chuckle, snort and replace the quarter in his pocket.

We waited, after he got up from the couch to go about his personal business we actually dove into the cushions. We hunted high and low in the search for loose change between the cushion back and the couch. Apart from finding a lot of loose change we also found artifacts of past meals, snacks and general bachelor living.

Over a period of a few days, perhaps weeks grandad abided by my dads suggestion. He said, create a downstairs bathroom in the hall closet. Good idea, now there was a washroom in a purposeful area.

Next, Ev convinced him to hire a cleaning women, she was a charming fifty-two year old Scottish person with a healthy smile. It seems when a body is dealing with relations of any ilk there are two ways to look at a scheme. One, do nothing and complain about the lack of progress. Two, make a suggestion and see it through. My mom was a doer, if she wanted to do something it was done.

Once Ev asked us if we wanted to go to Disneyland. Yes, of course and we went. The next day the whole family got in the '64 Ford wagon and drove to California. We went to visit her brother, Billy and the California cousins.

Other times she came downstairs and said lets go to the drive in. Alright, we got in the old Chev in our pjs and went to see Alfred Hitchcock at the drive in. Man alive that guy could scare the liver out of a blind man. He had a crazy cool silhouette, a deep commanding voice and a razor sharp sense of timing.

Now, after a month or two mom went to check on her dad. Grandma was gone and Ev worried. I always went with her more of a gopher, tag along person than anything else. We always more or less paled around.

She slid the Chev into a glide beside the curb, stopped, inspected the house on Cameron street for any signs of life. Nothing. We sauntered across the quiet street, popped up the wooden steps to the front door veranda, creaked open the door and viewed the inside. Quiet rebounded our presence, so quiet in fact that the footfalls we made on the hardwood floors echoed our entrance.

Hello? Daddy? Ev looked at me with hesitation, I was at a loss. She slowly opened the door to the downstairs, newly completed washroom. We had just seen a ripper of a Hitchcock movie so my imagination was all at sixes and sevens. Empty, the tap dripped In an oddly rhythmic manner, like a monkey playing the cymbals as the winder wore down. The toilet lid was up, but no sign of grandpa.

We sailed around the dinning room, peeked into the kitchen. Grandpa had started juicing which left the counter littered with scraps of fruit and vegetables. We opened the cellar door. Peered down into the darkness, smelled the mold laden air, still nothing.

Jackie we need to go upstairs. We moved in single file up the creaky stairs, I followed. I thought if there was some apparition at the top of the stairs I could beat it out of there in seconds flat. The steps curved at a forty-five degree angle at the top of the landing, on the right was the main bathroom. I went in, looked around, I saw his blade sharpening strap hanging by the sink, a towel loose on the tub, toilet with the lid in the natural up position. Ev took a left and looked into his bedroom, the bed although unkept, with scrambled sheets was not made up. So far there seemed to be nothing out of the ordinary save no daddy Blair.

We met in the hallway between the rooms, what to do next was a real poser. We heard a faint almost muffled sound emanating from the spare bedroom, what was that? I froze, Ev stood at rigid attention, there it was again.

Ev turned the handle, slowly pushed open the door. There in bed was Grandpa Blair and his new Scottish housekeeper.

Evelyn, grandad said, cleared his throat and said you remember Marge? Give us a minute. We did, we softly swayed down stairs in the motion you mirror when a baby is asleep in the next room. We walked out the front door and never spoke about it.

Ev did remark that she thought the housekeeper was not very good at her job. Every Tuesday the house was to be cleaned from top to bottom and it appeared the house was actually more in need of cleaning as the weeks went by. My mom being the person she was, went on Monday and cleaned her dads house. He kept the Scottish cleaning lady.

At his passing Grandad set aside one thousand dollars in his will, for doing a good job cleaning his house and for being a faithful friend to the end. It seemed fair. No one in the family mentioned it again, it was a done handshake deal. Grandpa was a god fearing man who above all else kept his word. We always felt his word was his bond, his pride and essence of who he was as a man. If he wanted to keep someone in his employ, who were we to say otherwise.