112 “Holy Cow Grandpa, That Sure Stinks!”

Camping is always fun, but some of the best times are when you are with family. The joy of family, especially the grandkids is what really adds to the pleasure of the experience. We had talked our daughter Teri with her husband Teddy and their first child Meagan, to go camping with us. One of the many places that we liked to camp on Vancouver Island was the Bald Eagle Campsite just south of Chemainus on the Chemainus River.

For something to do that weekend we visited the Duncan Forestry Museum. We were having a good time riding the old Shay steam engine and looking at all of the old logging equipment. Meagan who was two at the time was too cute to believe when she came to the raised boardwalks. We were walking along when suddenly she stopped and would not take another step. For some reason it spooked her to step over the cracks between the boards. We all had a good laugh, but there was nothing we could do to get her to step across any space between the boards, no matter how hard we tried.

Meagan even as a baby was where the action was. She was not content to sit by herself, but had come over to watch Grandpa empty the holding tanks on his RV. Things were not going well for Grandpa and for some reason the hose became disconnected when emptying the black water tank. Well the proverbial poop was flying and I mean flying everywhere. Poor little Meagan was out of the way but not out of the smell and all she could say was, “Holy cow Grandpa, that sure stinks.” And I certainly had to agree with her.

Meagan always loved to sing even as baby and I will always remember the Christmas we spent in southern California with Meagan and her mommy and daddy. It was after the service and we were sitting in the large “University Church,” at Loma Linda University, waiting for Teddy to finish his duties as a deacon. Suddenly we head a small child singing. When we looked up there was three years old Meagan on the platform saying, “Hey guys listen to me! Hey guys listen to me!” And off she went singing “Itsy Bitsy Spider.” As if her heart depended upon it. After she had our attention of course.

Meagan loved “Knock Knock” jokes and would carry on endlessly with anyone that loved to humor her, and I happened to be that person. It didn’t matter what the joke was about or how corny it might be as long as it was in the “Knock Knock” format she would laugh effortlessly and immediately come up with one for me to finish. It didn’t matter to her which part she had to play in the scenario, and this would go on, not until she got tired, but until Grandpa finally weakened and quit.

I will never forget one of Meagan’s creative bents when she was still a kid, and I must say I was amazed at her ability to make things from nothing. What prompted her to come up with the idea I will never know but I was quite charmed by her friend a Mr. Stickly. Mr. Stickly was quite thin but never the less had all of the necessary body parts to function as her generic friend. He would show up most anytime and always appeared to fit right in with what was going on at the moment. It wasn’t until a number of years went by before he seemed to melt slowly into the background but still carry with dignity the role of the lesser friend that he is today. For a piece of wood 1 inch by 3 inches by 4 feet tall, Mr. Stickly carried it off remarkably well.