Papaw’s In A Pickle


I called home yesterday to wish my grandparents a happy Valentines day.   My grandfather, who I’ve known my entire life as “Papaw,” is known much more for his ability to fix  things than his reliability at remembering special occasions such as Feb. 14.   So, I called him up, just to make sure he hadn’t forgotten.   After all, there have been more than fifty Valentines Day’s since he and Mamaw were married.

“Paw,” I said, (that’s short for Papaw in Alabama), “did you remember what today was?”

“Yea, I remembered.” He was less than enthusiastic.

“Well, did you get Mamaw anything?”

“No, not really.”

“Well, did you at least tell her you loved her?”   I willed him to answer yes.

“Son, I told her at least two or three times today.”   Whew!   That was a relief.   Long pause, then he continued.

“But I don’t think she believed me.”   Uh oh.   Sounds like trouble.

“Well,” I offered, “you better let me talk to her then.”   I heard some rumbling of the receiver and a faint “Hilda!”   A few  slow moments later, I heard her voice.


“Hey Maw.” (Again, short for – well I guess you got that now).   “Happy Valentines day.”

“Thank you sweetie!”   I was apparently still in good graces.   So I decided to cash in some of this equity to help out the old man.

“Papaw said he told you he loved you two or three times today.”

“Uh huh.”   She retorted.

“But he said you didn’t believe him.”   I waited for a moment.   Then came her response.

“Well,” she pondered aloud, “he lies a lot.”

Oh well. Sounds like my poor Papaw is in a pickle.   Next time, I may just have to help him out and send something on his behalf.   If you’re new to this blog, you can learn more about Papaw here.

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