I was all prepared for another great story about Will, but 2016 has struck yet again. My grandfather passed away at the age of 90 on Monday, so this post will be my favorite three stories I have about him.

The first is my favorite topic to bring up around my dad and his younger brother. Their conversation always goes as follows.

Uncle: You remember that time you set dad on fire.

Dad: I DID NOT! HE TOLD ME TO TURN ON THE CAR!

So as the story goes, my dad and uncle were sitting in the car when they were kids and my grandfather was working under the hood to fix it because he was too cheap to go to a mechanic. He looks up and says to my dad, seated in the driver’s seat, “don’t start it.” My dad hears, “Start it” and turns the key.

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All of a sudden my grandfather pulls his arm out of the hood and starts running away from the car, arm on fire.

Everything turned out ok. No one was injured. My dad may have been grounded though.

The second story is probably my favorite story ever about my grampa.

So he used to have to do a lot of work around his property cutting trees and trimming bushes and the such. So he decided it would be a great idea to take the safeties off of his chainsaw. One day he was working on cutting some branches off of a tree a little ways off from the house, and he slipped backwards.

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Well the chainsaw had no more safeties, so it kept running. Cut a big gash in his face, a chunk of his cheek was hanging off his face - so I was told because I was not alive yet - and it was pretty bad. So he drops the chainsaw, walks back to the house, grabs the keys and drives to the hospital. All the while he has the use of only one eye and one arm because his other arm/hand is holding his face together with a towel to soak up blood.

He turned out just fine. Had a nice scar to show for it and no long-term damage to anything. (In the alternate version of this story depending on which family member tells it, he made my grandmother drive him to the hospital and complained about her driving the whole way there.) I believe both of these things happened.

The final story is the only one that I was a part of. My grandfather loved golf. Played for most of his life. And he had gotten one Hole-in-One during his life before I was born.

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So we used to sign up for a charity scramble golf tournament every year put on by my mother and aunt’s work. We had a team of four, usually me, my mom, my dad and my grandfather. Sometimes my uncle from above would replace my mom.

Anyway this particular year it was the normal four of my family plus my grampa.

Quick side note, my grampa did not have his hole-in-one ball. Usually when you get one you save the ball for display. He had kept using it because, “it is a perfectly good ball and I am not wasting it by putting it away.”

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So we get to the first par 3 of the day in the tournament. The other three of us all get decent shots, and then he winds up and hits the ball. It barely clears the water hazard in front of the green, takes two bounces and drops straight in the hole. We all celebrate like mad.

We get up to the green and take pictures and celebrate some more, and a person working the event walks over to us. Informs us that my grampa just won a free set of Ping golf clubs because this par 3 had that as a prize for a hole-in-one.

One problem with the prize, they were right handed clubs (most clubhouse clubs are) and my grampa was left handed. It was fine, he took the clubs and sold them later.

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I tried to steal the ball to save it for him, but he took it back. Lost it three holes later. He never did change.

RIP grampa.


If you want stories about Will, I got you covered. Next week hopefully we will be back to normal.

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