THE CHORE LIST

My Grandaddy was always a busy, hardworking man (every day except Sunday). When he could not personally do the work in later life, he made a career out of thinking up "chores" for Dad to do each day. Dad wasn't real thrilled about it, but most of the time he did it anyway. In his own way, Dad realized that Grandaddy was just trying to feel useful at a difficult stage of his life.

One time I went by to visit Dad and he said that Grandaddy was insisting that Dad drive him to a graveyard on the other side of Henderson. Seems that Grandaddy had visited the grave of a long lost relative and was distressed that the tombstone was dirty and black with mold.

This "chore" was complicated by the fact that Dad didn't have a driver license and couldn't read the names on the stones. Add to this Grandaddy's failing vision due to glaucoma, and Dad just couldn't see anything good coming out of the adventure.

Enter grandson frankie.

I (reluctantly) agreed to drive Grandaddy to the cemetery, take some soaps and brushes, and do the deed.

When we arrived at our destination, Grandaddy identified the target grave marker and sure enough, it was in sorry shape.

Loyal grandson then set about to wash, scrub, brush and generally polish the commemorative stone until it fairly gleamed (did I mention it was hot, humid and not especially pleasant work).

As I stood back and admired my accomplishment, I asked Grandaddy, "How were you related to (NAME)?" Grandaddy said, "I couldn't say because I don't know anybody by that name?"

Yeah, you guessed it, the actual tombstone for Grandaddy's relative was in pristine condition. However, somewhere there was a departed soul smiling as its long neglected earthly marker got spiffied up compliments of Granvil Waller's chore list.