The Saint
June 29, 2007 by Veronica Mitchell
Classic Dredge for you today from June 2006.
I was five years old, and full of awe for my grandfather. He loved me with an overflowing heart, claiming me for a grand-daughter when we were not blood kin. He was a farmer, with calloused, toughened hands, hands so tough he wiggled his fingers and let the dog nip them for fun as they walked to the barn.
I was sitting in the breezeway, the cool part of a house without AC, in one of my grandma’s white wicker chairs. Grandpa came inside and showed me his thumb, swollen and purple under the nail. He had smashed it in something, some farm equipment. He spoke cheerfully, chatting to me as he looked for a straight pin. He found it and lit a flame. I watched while he heated the pin in the flame until it was red hot, then pressed the hot pin against his thumbnail.
(Tsss!) the pin said. There was the smell of smoke.
It cooled quickly. He heated it up again.
(Tsss!)
I watched, fascinated.
(Tsss!)
“Grandpa! Grandpa! Doesn’t that hurt?”
“Yep.”
(Tsss!)
The pin burned through, and Grandpa swung his hand hard through the air with a sound that wasn’t a word. He never cursed, at least not in front of his grand-daughter. The blood was gone from behind the nail. There was no more purple, no threat of infection. The finger was clean, and able to heal. He did what was necessary, and I never knew how much it hurt.
I still want to be like him.
That reminded me so much of my dad that it gave me a lump in my throat. You write beautifully.
That was simply beautiful.
I know I always say this, but this post is one of my favorites.
He sounds so much like my own grandfather! Beautiful, beautiful post. You sure can write.
This reminds me of my own farmer grandfather.
You’ve been tagged!
Lovely post.
Your grandfather sounds like my husband. He raised quarterhorses for many years and loved the barn more than the house. I wish young women could find more men like your grandfather — they make the most wonderful sense with their simple, straight forward outlook on life. Your post is lovely — I feel as though I have met him.