When I was growing up, I always loved going to Grammie C's house because she had a brook. How many kids can say their Grandma has a brook? Yeah, it was cool.
Whenever it was warm enough, and sometimes when it wasn't, we would go and dip our toes in the water. No matter what season it was, that water was always freezing!
In the summer, all of the grandkids would go down to the brook and try to build a dam across it to create a swimming hole. The bottom of the brook was covered in big flat rocks, so it was a little hard to build a good dam...at least by ourselves.
After a few failed attempts, the kids would make a plea to the adults for more man-power. Daddy and Uncle Alan just couldn't resist the pitiful cries... Well, that's how they wanted it to look. They really just wanted to play in the water. Pretty soon dam-building had come to a standstill, and the uncles were having fun throwing big, flat, pizza-sized rocks into the water beside the kids, completely soaking the unsuspecting victim who wasn't paying attention.
The stories of the brook started long before the grandkids arrived though. When my Dad was growing up there, they had a dog named Festus. Festus was part bull mastiff, part german shepherd. He was big.
My Grampa used to fish in the pond, and he had this one fish that he had been feeding, waiting til it was big enough. Once day, he found some guy walking through the woods, fishing in the brook. This guy stopped, right in my grandparents' front yard, and was fishing!! So Grampa went out and asked the guy to go fish somewhere else. Grampa made sure Festus was still in the house, but he was just behind the screen door.
Well, the guy got mouthy with Grampa, saying that the brook was public property and he could fish there if he wanted to. Grampa said, Look, the brook may be public, but you're standing on MY land, so move along. Guy still was getting mouthy, even started swearing. Grampa said, Ok, you can either leave, or I'll let the dog loose. All the while Festus had been at the door, barking his massive big dog bark.
The guy still wouldn't leave, so Grampa went up to the door, and opened it. Festus was out like a shot. The guy started backing away, "Call your dog off! I'll leave!" Just then, this guy's kid came walking into view. Festus loved kids, the only thing kids had to worry about was getting licked to death. Grampa called to Festus, "Festus! Stop!" The call was timed just as Festus caught sight of the kid. Kid was more important than tresspassing Guy, so Festus stopped and went over to the kid wagging his tail, happy as could be.
The guy was thanking Grampa all over the place for calling off the dog, said he'd move on and wouldn't bother Grampa again. What the guy didn't know was that the kid was what stopped Festus. Nothing Grampa could have done would have stopped that dog.
The brook, and my Grampa are my most-missed memories from that house. Grampa's quiet presence and mischievous grin were as much a part of that house as the old brown paneling and big picture window.
The next post of Grandma's House, Cheney Edition will be a tribute to my Grampa, Vinny Cheney. The one person I look forward to seeing again the most.
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