5/22 and 5/26
We were able to visit my Grandpa Herdman (my mother's father) on Sunday and the following Thursday. I have always loved my grandparents house. It is located in a little town, Los Olivos, in the about 30 minutes north of Santa Barbara. It is western, ranch style house that was built about 30 years ago and sits on about 5 acres of land. We used to think it was pretty neat that they were located 5 miles (off the same road) from Michael Jackson's Neverland Ranch, but that poor piece of land had lost its luster for many, many years.
There is still the doghouse that used to be the home of three dogs of my childhood, Woody (a lab), Amanda (grandma's cocker spaniel) and Missy (a mean ole mutt). The placards with their names remain even though they have long passed (some 20 years ago) and a few dogs have come along after them. Right in front of that doghouse is a HUGE oak tree where the first set of grand kids (Peter, Mike, and I) used to climb up and down. The second set of grand kids (Jason, Brianne and even Tracy and Kari) followed in our footsteps some five or more years later.
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| The doghouse |
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| The Oak Tree |
An then there were the childhood horses, Harvey, and Ralph, a mule that was there to keep Harvey company. Grandpa rode Harvey actively in his Los Rancheros outings, including the yearly, week long ride in May that spanned quite a bit of the valley. Harvey and Ralph passed ten years ago or so and a borrow, named Jack, has taken their stead.
Grandpa has a shed/barn that holds his woodworking tools, everything you can imagine you would need to create a masterpiece. Peter and I would escape to that barn almost as soon as we would arrive at Grandma and Grandpa's house while the adults got reacquainted at the house. We would feed the horses bits of hay and try not to get our clothes or hands stuck in their mouths. Before our teens, we were just a little frightened and fascinated by the horses, so crossing the fence was always a heart racing experience as were crossing into their "territory".
Thanksgiving was at their house for many, many years, even for us "Holdridge's" on the east coast. We would make the trek to California on Wednesday and be welcomed with guacamole and homemade tortilla chips for something to snack on Wednesday and whatever was for dinner that night. The turkey on Thanksgiving was usually about 35lbs with all the fixings to go with it including an assortment of pies to finish. The next day was shopping in town (Solvang) for the ladies and to the woodworking shed for the men to help Grandpa with his latest project. That night were authentic Mexican tamales made by my grandmother's hairdresser, Rachel
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| The Barn/Shed |
It is sad to say that Thanksgivings have dwindled these days, those tools are now covered in dust from lack of use and I don't see much of my uncles, aunts and cousins since my grandma passed this very month in 2005. A lot of time has passed. My hope is that the next time I see them is not just at my grandfather's funeral.
I am grateful that Austin met his great grandfather. While he won't remember this experience, I hope pictures and writings will help him understand what he and my grandmother meant to me. Grandpa was born the year of the stock market crash and perhaps set him up to be a part of a very tough generation. My grandparents were almost never affectionate when I was younger and I relished in the very few times they were when I was older. All the same, they hold a special place in my heart.
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| Austin and Mom visiting with Grandpa's dog, Max |
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| Four Generations (birth dates 1929-2010) |
