Finding it.

I found the precious piece of paper, a note that my grampa kept. The man of my Life.
The list is titled P.P.P and here is what follows:

Bicycle
Stones that gyp
Have found
Multiplication table
140 MPH
Money for drawing
Blusing
Hornets
Shakespeare
Favorite Action
Ring
Stories
Embarrassment
Church
Tea - Coffee
Driven
Ex-temp Speeches
Bowling
Baseball game
Swear
People who smoke cigs
People who eat cheese
Don't like chickens etc

so i think my grampa, who was somewhat acquard socially, but really funny also, i think he kept this note as things he had come up with to talk to my gramma with, some catchers, when they were dating. because he liked her too to think up anything brilliant while on the spot with this gorgeous sweetheart. my gramma, who was a singer on the radio, obsessed with songs like "somewhere over the rainbow." so this note is probably from the early 1920s when he was in his twenties.
The hilarious thing is that I keep notes scribbled all over anything in my purse, check books and receipts, i use all these when i get little hints of good writings.

But losing this piece of paper and then finding it reminded me that I have heritage. my awesome brilliant grampa. who made all kinds of inventions and knew every kind of rose.who was patient, and grew bamboo, and took pictures. and sometimes he just waited in the parking lot of my school for me after dropping me off till 3 oclock. who had a model T Ford when he was 18. who was the first person to take aerial photos of Midland Michigan up in his buddy Jack's plane. who whistled a lot. who taught me all about trains. who knew every street in san francisco. who took me to watch the oil ships come in the bay and we'd watch their magnificence. almost like creatures. He was still. And when i was born, he became silly. And from then on we couldn't stop. we spilled into each other. This is my Markey heritage. It is my golden coin.

So now I'm struck with the fact that i come from special people, and that i'm even special. And although the boys WILL take-off from my scene and whether this is just my bad-luck or just the default of this flipflop town, it does not matter, because i have heritage. I had a brilliant grandfather who cherished me, who was devoted to me and loved me unconditionally, who i got to be wild with, who i got to be my very fiesty me. We'd sit for hours on end in his old faded car and watch the rain, watching nothing continue to happen on my lazy suburban street except for maybe my cat Snowy come home and ignore us. he'd be telling me some story or explaining some mechanical process to me and I would fade in and out of listening. My grampa loved to watch the eventless, like the little children following their parents at the mall while we ate McDonalds and listened to the drone of the echoes in the mall.