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Grandpa and the Waffle House

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Contributed by: Rob Sanchez on 5/25/2007

When I was 11, my grandfather took my brother, my aunt and I on a cross-country road trip from Albuquerque to Greensboro, NC, and then down to Orlando Florida. We left on Memorial Day weekend and I remember Grandpa setting the speed control so we would be driving 60 (which was 5 mph over the speed limit back then) and averaging 1 mile a minute. We took I-40 straight East, and took I-10 on the return trip back. I was in the back seat, determining on the map where we would be in certain amounts of time. (Yeah, I know, a geek even way back then.)

Amongst the memories were the goofy roadside attractions; the independently owned motels; the tornado in Oklahoma City where we were for night one; stopping at every "welcome to (insert State name here) sign and taking our pictures; how darn long it took to get across Texas; filling my grandfather's spit cups with tissue as he was fond of the smokeless tobacco, and; as my brother would say, swimming in the "Gulp"of Mexico.

What I remember most was my grandfather. And the Waffle House. We didn't stop at every Stuckey's for their famous Nut log roll, as seen on hundreds of roadside billboards during out trip. Instead, every morning, we ate breakfast at whatever Waffle House was by the hotel or motel where we stayed. As a matter of fact, that's probably how he determined where we would camp down for the night.

I was reminded of both of these things earlier this week. It is of course Memorial Day weekend. And just by chance, I was at a Waffle House.

It was 1983. Tom Sneva had earlier that day won the Indy 500. We were in the middle of Tennessee on Sunday night, about two thirds of the way on our trip to visit my great grandmother and great aunt, then a slight detour south to visit my great uncle, recently retired from Disney World. We were watching whatever news was on, and I remember being interested in the big race. I grew up about 5 miles from the Unser family in Albuquerque, and although I didn't meet "Little Al" until much later in life, they were revered by all of New Mexico. As we all know, not too much comes out of that state, so we take credit for as much as we can, when we can.

What I remember about my grandfather that night, though, still amazes me to this day. When we think of grandparents, we think of them being old, feeble, beings. Grandpa was in his late 50s or early 60s at this point, and was having fun with us, showing my brother and me his muscles. Of course, he flexes his bicep, as is the style to show off. My brother reaches up, clasps his hands around grandpa's arm, and tries to pull him down. He goes as far as to lift his feet off the floor, hoping sheer gravity will help the arm succumb and pull it downward. Grandpa makes a bicep with his other arm, and motions to me to climb on. I do, and I can imagine the scene. Here is this old man (in my mind at the time) with two rugrats dangling off of his arms. And all he can do is smile, and start doing bicep curls. I have that image fresh in my mind, as if it was yesterday.

***

The girls and I were out running some errands on Thursday. As I was cruising the local freeway, just about lunchtime, I looked up and remembered there was a Waffle House at the next exit. I quickly asked the girls if they wanted "breakfast for lunch". They agreed and I quickly exited.

Living in Colorado, there aren't too many of these restaurants. We have three in Denver. And two of them aren't on major freeway off ramps, as is the norm. When we were driving cross-country oh-so-many years ago, it seemed you could find a Waffle House at nearly every exit. My daughters, however, had never had the benefit of the Waffle House experience.

We pulled in, and were greeted with a rousing "HI" from the staff when we walked in the door. We found a booth, looked over the menu, and decided what to eat. Har went for "scrambled eggies and toast" and Savannah wanted a waffle. Me, I'm a sucker for Cheese and Eggs, with the grits and apple butter - and I don't want to hear about cholesterol or how bad it is for you.

As we waited for our food, I told the ladies my memories of the Waffle House. I said, "Daddy's Papa used to bring me here when I was little." I told them of the trip, and of watching my grandfather spread the jelly on his toast after every meal under the big yellow sign, which I equated to his version of "dessert after breakfast". I told them about grits. And how I was near scolded for putting sugar on them. (That is an insult in the South, ya know.) I told them about eating at the Waffle house nearly every day for two weeks. "Super Size Me" be damned. I told them about "Flo" the typical Waffle House waitress, and her southern charm and attitude. I think they tuned me off about halfway through, but for me, it was awesome to recollect.

When I seperated from the Marine Corps in 1994, Grandpa and I road tripped to Vegas for a week. During this trip, my grandfather confided in me the details of his service in the Marine Corps during World War II. It was very seldom spoken about, as is the case with many of the "Greatest Generation". He was running moonshine as a teen through the backwoods of North Carolina and was busted by the "Revenuer Man". His sentence was a choice of , "Go to the military or go to jail." He chose the Marines Corps.

Actually, I think the Judge chose it for him.

We told war stories of old stomping grounds, and dumb Lieutenants. Grandpa served with the 7th Marines, along with John Basilone at Guantanamo Bay, and later Guadalcanal. (Basilone won the Congressional Medal of Honor for "Superheroic" actions on Guadalcanal, and was later killed on Iwo Jima.) He was on ship, heading north to Iceland when Pearl Harbor was bombed. He said he went to bed, and the sun was on the port side. When he got up the next morning, and they formed for PT on the ship's deck, he noticed the sun was rising from the left side of the ship, and knew right then something was awry. We deduced that he was on Okinawa exactly 50 years to the day before I was. Obviously the circumstances were a bit different.

And of course, we stopped at Waffle House.

Like many of the World War II veterans, my grandfather passed on a couple of years ago, in November of 2005. He never met his youngest great granddaughter, but the pics I have of him and I during that road trip, and the subsequent visits since my move to Colorado I will keep treasured. That damn Cancer bug got him. I know he fought with every ounce of energy he had. I was living in Colorado at the time, and didn't see him in his final days. I am O.K. with that though. I like the vision I have of him in my head...

Arms flexed, with my brother and my legs dangling below him.

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Showing 1-6 of 6 comments

Submitted By: Jewel-e George

posted on 6/9/2007 @ 6:15:21 AM

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Rob thanks for the little insight; The perspective of what is 'dear' to you and how you are raising you family was touching and poinient. It brought back memories of our grandfather and Saturday morning jaunts to the Vernors plant on the Detroit river (ask your father-in-law). Thanks for sharing - it brought back fond memories. CAJ

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Submitted By: Michelle Sanchez

posted on 6/7/2007 @ 5:29:21 PM

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You make a wife proud! I am very fortunate that I had the chance of meeting grandpa a few times before he passed away. He is part what made you, what you are today! Thanks for all the great memories you are making with our kids. I can just IMAGINE the stories you'll have for the grandkids someday!

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Submitted By: Sue Ratliff

posted on 6/7/2007 @ 12:05:00 PM

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Wow Rob, What a wonderful story. As I was reading this, I was thinking back to when I was probably the girls ages, and older, and how he brought me a case of fresh oranges from the orange groves and waffle cookies with the iding inthe middle, and we would sit on the front porch eating oranges and waffle cookies, In fact, on his lunch hr every day, he used to come home and we would have lunch together, yes you guessed it, oranges and waffle cookies. Also as we all were growing up and even with his grandchildren, he would make his ears moved up and down and all of us couldnt even figure out to do it. Thanks Rob for an awesome story. Sue

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Submitted By: Mindy Hanson

posted on 6/7/2007 @ 11:33:25 AM

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You have me in tears Rob! Hold on to those memories and good for you for sharing them with your girls! You are lucky to have the memories and they are lucky to have you to share them!

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Submitted By: Erin Feese

posted on 5/29/2007 @ 2:32:57 PM

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One of my favorite memories of my grandpa is how he would serve my brothers and me blueberries and vanilla ice cream, and then exclaim how good it was like he was eating some rare delicacy. It's the little things, like eating at Waffle House, that make the most precious memories ... Your grandpa sounds like such a great guy. Thanks for sharing your memories!

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Submitted By: Rebecca Zimmerman

posted on 5/29/2007 @ 2:18:04 PM

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Awesome story .. your grandpa sounds like he was a pretty cool guy. I can't wait to read more from you!

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Showing 1-6 of 6 comments

CONTRIBUTOR INFORMATION

Rob Sanchez

Morrison , CO

Rob Sanchez has posted 2 blog entries and 1 comment since joining on 6/28/2006. Rob Sanchez 's average blog rating is 5.

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