Journal
"I'm too sober for this"I never got to meet my Mother’s Dad. His name was Bruce “Bud” Shantz, handsome and humorous, was a dairy farmer (Out-Of-Order Adjectives). He was kind and liked to make dirty jokes. He loved his kids and wife, but was a workaholic. My grandma Shantz told me that he couldn’t dance, but he would go just for her. He would just swing his arms around and step on her feet. My mother told me he would sit in his tighty-whities near the island in the kitchen and have a smoke and drink scotch. When her friends would come over he would stay like that in his underwear and play card with her friends and her and tell dirty jokes (her friends were all boys).
In 2012, my Grandpa Lauckner died. My mother told me that they were both having a smoke, drinking a beer, and telling each other dirty jokes; all while watching over me. In the last couple years, I’ve started being called BJ (Bud Jr.). Every Thanksgiving I always say something that leads to my Mom and her siblings laughing at me. They say I’m definitely Bud’s Grandchild. I really hope so. I hope I’ve made both of those men proud. I miss them.
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January 2018
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