Fair
81°FFairFull Forecast

Vintage bassinet kindles Grandpa Lyle memories

I stood in my garage this weekend — deep in thought.

I was tightening screws on a bassinet made by my grandfather Lyle Armstrong — my mom (Momica’s) father.

I don’t remember much about my Grandpa Lyle. I was 4 years old when he died of a brain aneurysm while picking up his mail at the Kent post office.

Here’s what I do remember about him.

He helped teach me how to tie my shoes. I can vividly remember that. I was sitting on the carpet in our dining room in Kent near our wood stove. He was above me giving instructions.

I remember him teaching me how to write/spell my first name. I spelled it correctly for the first time on a Ryder notepad under his supervision. As I recall, I had a little trouble with the y. The tail was backward, but he helped me correct it.

I remember he lived on the hill above us in Kent, and he’d always bring down a can of Fareway or Hy-Vee brand soda pop for me when he visited. Man, I loved that. I couldn’t wait for him to come. He’d bring my mom a glass bottle of Mountain Dew or Pepsi. (Remember how much better pop tasted in a glass bottle?)

That’s about all I remember of Grandpa Lyle, which makes me a little sad as I sit here and write this because my mom often tells me I look and sometimes act like him. I want to know him.

I often thought about using my journalism skills to track down those closest to him, interview them and get an idea of his personality through their stories.

These are the things I was in deep thought about Sunday.

The bassinet we were tightening and later cleaning was handmade by Grandpa Lyle. I slept in that bassinet when I was a little one. I cried and probably screamed in that bassinet.

Now, my little girl will sleep in the same bassinet. That makes me happy, and I’m sure somewhere it’s making him happy, too.

Comments

More News

Comments

Reader Poll

Should one-man crews be allowed on BNSF railways?
Yes
No
Unsure