My Grandpa

So, my Grandpa Baker died last week. It's such a strange emotion when you lose a grandparent. Part of me wants to cry and the other part wants to rejoice that he is home. That his parents and 2 of his children were there to welcome him. I know that his body has been restored and that he is with his loved one's, but the rest of us, here, feel a little bit lonely.
My mom asked me to think of a memory of Grandpa to share with his Pastor before the funeral. How do you do that? How do you find just one memory? I've been thinking all week and it's just a big old jumble of wonderful memories. Grandpa was larger than life. I remember as a little girl being amazed by his size. He seemed HUGE! Tall and strong, and he had the biggest hands in the whole, wide world. He was so gruff, and so silly. Grandpa would tell you to get on a horse or swim across a raging river, and you just didn't say no. No matter if you were scared, if Grandpa said jump...you jumped. A lot of the memories that have been blurring through my head are at the river. Be it the Madison River, Warm River, Snake River, Big Hole River, Firehole River...you name it, we spent a lot of time on rivers. We spent so much time fly fishing, or tubing, or camping. Feeding the fish, or throwing rocks. I can't hear the sound of a rushing river without thinking of my Grandpa. I remember one time when I was maybe 8 years old. We were jumping in the Madison up by the dog kennels and floating down to the big rock. Grandpa was sitting on the rock and that's where we were to stand up and get out. Well, one time I must have jumped a little to far out into the current and I floated right on past the rock. I tried and tried to get my feet under me, but the current was too strong and I was floating away. I remember thinking in my head how long it would take me to float past the bridge when I saw this enormous hand reach down and pull me out of the water. It probably only took Grandpa two strides in the water to reach me and pull me out. Grandpa bought me my first 10 speed bike. It was the coolest bike in the world. Pink and gray and I had to lean down real far to reach the handles. He also bought me a pink cowboy hat to match. How cool was I? I was lucky enough when I was 8 years old to go on my first major road trip with Grandpa. I flew to Omaha where he and Grandma Weezie picked me up at the airport and we drove back to Montana. We had the best time. Went to Mt. Rushmore and stayed at the Mt. Rushmore Motel where Grandma and I were terrified of the water slide. So Grandpa went up and jumped on the slide on his belly to show us how easy it was. We spent some time in Cody, WY learning all about Buffalo Bill, and we drove through Yellowstone during the big fires. I remember riding dirt bikes, and shooting guns. Riding horses, riding snowmobiles and learning to drive in the old Dodge truck. I remember hooting and hollering at basketball and football games (even thought I had no idea what was going on) and the rowdy games of Tripoly as Grandpa taught all his grand kids how to gamble. I remember looking at pocket knives in Grandpa's office. I remember that smell. The smell of Grandpa's office. A heady mix of leather, paint thinner and after shave. Tyler and I got to spend a fabulous week on the Big Hole with Grandpa. It rained and rained so much that even Grandpa didn't want to fish. So we piled in the truck and found some crazy, unheard of hot springs and swam and played in the warm water all day. There was a little stream just down the hill from the hot spring and Tyler and I laid in that stream telling Grandpa how warm it was, trying so hard to get him in. Well, 20 minutes later, after having us pose for multiple pictures in the "warm" stream, he tells us that he knows it's not warm and we can quit pretending. And how about those interviews? If you are a grand kid, you know what I'm talking about. Grandpa sits you on a stool with a huge spotlight glaring into your eyes and sets up his video camera and asks you all kinds of questions about yourself. I hated those interviews! And don't forget the trouble you could get in if you didn't eat "Every Carrot and pee on your plate." As we got older, I got to watch my "larger than life" Grandpa turn into the most tender hearted GG Pa. He was so proud of his Great Grandchildren. I'm so happy the my Brooklyn will have a few memories of her GG Pa. Their bike rides through the Warm River Camp Ground are a very special memory. Anyway, sorry mom, I can't think of just one. How about a wonderful jumble?