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matt and i went to my grandpa’s family reunion on saturday. it was in fennimore… i don’t think i’d been there in about eight years. but, driving to marsden park was as if i were eight, in the back seat of mom’s ’78 firebird, whining about how long it took to get to grampa and gramma’s house. i don’t think it was four-lanes part of the way back then. :)
we opted to bring the dogs because … well, because it was a good idea. until they realized they had to be on leashes most of the day.
no fun!
after the party dissipated, i decided that matt needed to see my grampa’s favorite bar. it’s the hilltop tavern:
grampa’s auto shop/gas station was down the street, and the hilltop was on the way to their house… i presume he went there most days after work, maybe even sundays after church.
i don’t remember why i know the following story, but when the phone rings at a bar, you should never tell the bartender, “tell ’em i’m not here!”
apparently someone did just that. it was their wife (i think?) calling to say that their son (i think?) had just passed away. but she couldn’t tell her husband because he made the bartender lie to her. :(
on a happier note, i have fond memories of one of grampa’s brothers (richard?) giving me coins to play whatever video game was there at the time.