Grandpa and Grandma Claridge

Lila Mae Harlan Claridge and George Birdsey Claridge

My childhood memories are many of my Grandfather Claridge, but just a faded few of my Grandmother as she passed away when I was only 4 years old. My parents would leave me with her as they worked the ranch with my two older sisters. I remember she always kept baseball gumballs in her dish towel drawer. One day I swallowed the piece she gave me and took another piece out of the drawer without her permission and she caught me. I remember feeling rather sad at disappointing her. I also remember helping Grandma's maid iron, I didn't really iron I just played with Grandma's old fashioned irons while the maid did all the real work, of course I was too little then to do much to help anyway. I remember Grandma's hugs, and an occasional moment while I was at my Grandparent's home and standing on the pew next to my Grandfather the day of her funeral, tears running down his face, I hugged him and told him not to cry. As I was growing up I remember being a little jealous of my older sisters and their sweet memories of Grandma.

Grandpa was a hard working person, and at times he could be a bit firm, but he did love his grandchildren. What I remember most about Grandpa is his old wooden chair on his front porch where he would go and sit after he had returned from a day's ride, and also after meals. Grandpa smoked, but never in his house. He told us he started when he was nine and became addicted, and warned us not to try things like that. Later in his life a friend died of lung cancer, and he resolved to quit that day, and he did. He kept one pack of cigarettes in his home just to remind himself he'd overcome his addiction. When Grandpa sat on the porch and I would go outside, he'd always talk to me about a lot of different things, then tell me I was his Little Patrice. I'd give him a hug and go off to play with my siblings. We loved playing baseball with a small bat and plastic ball in his front yard. The rose trellis was first base and there were 3 trees for the other bases, we never slid home, that would have been painful. Grandpa's porch also served as a marker for how we were growing, he'd let us stand as tall as we could by the porch post, draw a line above our heads and put our names and date on the line. It was always so great when you'd grown about an inch. We also hand cranked a lot of homemade ice cream on his porch. At Christmas time it was our job to beg my Grandfather to come stay with us at our home in Thatcher on Christmas eve. He was planning on coming anyway, but loved the attention. The rule at our house was, if Grandpa was up, Dad and Mom would get up and we could open presents Poor Grandpa, he slept on the hide-a-bed in the living room and we'd make all kinds of noises to help him wake up. One year I'm ashamed to admit my brother Jason and I took a flashlight and shined it up his nose until he woke up. He was a good sport about those early Christmas mornings. I was not much of the outdoorsy type, but Grandpa always told me how happy he was to see me riding with himself and dad when they were working. I'm certain I was not much help as my horse skills were laughable, but it always seemed to make him happy so I would ride. One of my favorite family memories were the Dutch Oven dinners dad would prepare out on the flat in front of Grandpa's house and Grandpa would always make his baking powder biscuits. I thought they were so good as a child, but I think it was more that Grandpa had made them. Grandpa was pretty healthy most of his life, and he was lucky to be able to live out his days in his own home. I will always have fond memories of my Grandpa and to this day when I imagine the Ranch, I still see Grandpa sitting in his old wooden chair on the front porch and saying to me, "You'll always be my Little Patrice."

I am truly grateful for the time that I spent with my Grandpa Claridge and the things he taught me by the way he lived his life.