Robert Wasson is my grandfather.  I say is, not was, because he always will be.  I have no fascinating stories or amusing anecdotes about my grandpa.  I can only do him justice with some fond memories.  Memories of a childhood that was more heavily influenced by this man than I ever realized.

Most of my memories of living in Iowa come from visits to Grandpa and Grandma Wassons farm.   A sprawling midwestern farm nestled in a sea of green fields.  Corn stalks that towered over our heads, soybeans, and the massive garden that supplied the best vegetables I've ever had.  Apple and cherry trees along with a strawberry patch supplied fruit for the delicious homemade pies that Grandma would make and give Grandpa reason to lovingly tease my sisters and I.  I can still hear him today.  " I sure am glad Tammy doesn't like apple pie."

Mostly I remember watching him work.  While we played around the farm that held a plethora of entertainment with its large yard for playing tag and endless hiding spots for hide and seek, Grandpa was out on his tractor, feeding hogs and cows and sometimes chickens, baling hay, or performing any other number of tasks that come with being a farmer.   I remember tractor rides, trotting along after him when he fed the animals, and giggling when he settled down for an afternoon nap in that red recliner snoring up a storm.  I can still smell that recliner which we respected as being Grandpa's chair but sat in every chance we got.

I remember Grandpa yelling at us ( very rare indeed), to stop sliding down the stairs or we'd pull up the carpet.  I can hear him calling out the names of cows and pigs as he fed them.  I remember being alone with Grandpa just once.  I don't remember the exact circumstances and this is nothing exciting, but it was just myself and him.  I went to the feed store with him.  I rode back to the farm standing in the bed of his pickup, holding onto the cab.  What a great joy, riding in the back of a pickup truck and experiencing  that exhilarating, windswept feeling.

This is the Grandpa that I remember most because that was my childhood.  Oh there's more because we saw much of Grandpa and Grandma in Florida as well, before and after Iowa.  I remember very little of the before as I was very young and there are many nice memories after we returned to Florida.  The best memories took place on that farm in Redfield, Iowa though.  Memories of a strong, hard working man who loved his family and his animals.  A man who I can first and foremost think to describe as good.   A good man who lived a good life.  

I love you Grandpa.  Rest in peace.