There was so much I wanted to know and hear first-hand accounts of. Being born in 1914, my Grandpa had lived through WW2, something that wouldn’t interest me until I was in my mid-late 20s, and by that point, he had long since passed away.
Giving Granpa a big hug, my eyes drifted to my Nanny, who was beaming brightly as she snatched me away from my Grandpa and peppered my cheeks with kisses.
"NANNY!" I cheered gleefully, causing her to magically brighten even more as she understood I was finally at the ’recognition’ age.
"Look at my big boy, you are getting so big; how am I going to hold you if you get any bigger?" she quipped while poking my tummy and kissing my forehead, making me giggle.
’I wonder if…,’ as I interacted with my Nanny, I couldn’t help but contemplate if there was anything I could do to help her health so that she didn’t have a stroke a few years from now.
Hers was the first funeral I ever went to, and at the time, I was only in 5th grade. To this day, I remember it because it was also my first time experiencing our family traditions, as it was the side of the family that had immigrated from Serbia.
My Grandpa was a typical Northman, with his father coming from Norway before immigrating to America in the late 1800s. While Uncle Gideon favored my Grandpa’s side of the family, my Dad and Aunt Penelope had a darker complexion, usually accompanied by being Serbian.
The minutes seemed to fly by as we spent time with my grandparents, and after about an hour, my Nanny and Amanda went to the kitchen to start fixing up dinner, leaving the boys in the living room.
My eyes quickly flicked from the TV back toward the large grandfather coo-coo clock, which stood over six feet tall and weighed hundreds of pounds, as I played with some matchbox cars and a small track.
’Any minute now,’ having come here thousands of times over the years, I knew the patterns exhibited by not only my father but also my grandfather, and if I were ever going to get an opportunity to pull my little heist, it would be at exactly 3:15 pm.
For some odd reason, both of them would take a nap like clockwork while watching the History Channel, and having been through it an uncountable number of times; I was prepared and waiting while covertly watching the clock tick by.
3:05 pm
Dad settled on the couch while Grandpa put down his newspaper and appeared to be invested in a history show about WW2.
3:10 pm
Dad’s eyes were getting heavy, and Grandpa had just extended the footrest of his recliner and leaned back.
3:14:30 pm
’Any second now,’ tensing my body slightly, I turned my head and listened in on the conversation occurring between Nanny and Amanda; apparently, they were making a meal that required a lot of prep work and was only halfway done, so I didn’t expect either of them to leave the kitchen for about another hour.
Then, sticking to the regular schedule, the moment the clock hit 3:15, a faint chorus of snoring erupted from both the couch and the recliner.
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’Heh, never fails,’ chuckling mentally, I carefully put down my toy cars, snuck out of the living room, passed the massive clock, and ended up in the forked hallway.
If I went to the right, it would lead to four bedrooms and a bathroom, yet if I hung left, which I did, I would reach my Grandpa’s office.
Silently sneaking on my tippy toes, after 30 feet, I reached a half-open door and carefully eased myself through the crack without moving the old wooden barricade, which was known to creak very loudly.
Every movement needed to be precise; each footfall was measured mainly because I didn’t want to accidentally jar the door in any way, as even though my Grandpa was hard of hearing, he seemed to have the magical ability to tell when someone was in his office.
Entering the office was only ¼ of the battle, though, because the moment you were inside the small former bedroom, you’d be greeted by piles and piles of boxes with only two narrow pathways.
The first leads directly to a, by modern standards, ancient PC, while the other leads to the closet housing the safe.
Entering the 12x14 foot room, I was instantly assaulted by the musty smell of old documents and cardboard, a sign that it had been like this for ages.
’Heh, bad time to think this, but imagine one of these ceiling-high towers of boxes fell over and smooshed my year-old self.’ Chuckling internally, I carefully navigated the room toward the PC, more importantly, the desk, and while standing on the tips of my toes, clicked the little desklamp on, illuminating the room just enough that I’d be able to locate one of the seemingly infinite flashlights Grandpa had laying around.
As predicted, now able to see well enough to look around, I couldn’t help but smile when I counted eight individual flashlights ranging in size and shape.
’Always prepared for a hurricane. I never thought about it too much, but Dad is the same way, dozens of flashlights and hundreds of AA batteries.’ Pushing that memory aside, I waddled my way to the nearby low hanging on a lanyard flashlight, removed it from the under-desk hook, and clicked it on.
Next, with my path lit up, I carefully weaved around the multiple towers of boxes and stacks of photographs, which were my Granpa’s main hobby, before arriving in front of the massive safe.
However, that was where I hit the first roadblock of my little Rugrats-style adventure because as I gazed up, I easily noticed the dial to unlock the safe was a full two feet above my head.
’Sigh, I really don’t remember this thing being so damn tall…ok what are my options? There has to be a footstool or something around here; it’s not like I’ll be able to move any of the boxes; they weigh far too much for my baby arms to move.’