I have been thinking about my Grandpa Coons and about all of the things that he did that we, his grandkids, loved. I have written a story previously where I called him the greatest man that ever lived and I stand by that.

Grandpa was born in 1879, so he was old when I knew him. I have always marveled that it is 2020 and my Grandpa, born in 1879, was a huge part of my life. What a span of years. Grandpa sang me songs and told me stories that related to what the slaves sang and at least one song that went back to the Revolutionary war.

Grandpa and Grandma homesteaded on Boxelder Creek near the Post Office and store of Belltower in 1911, I think, maybe earlier. My Mother was born in 1910 in Iowa and came out to the homestead at a young age. I was born at their house in May of 1938 but of course I don't remember them until somewhat later. I don't know what my earliest memory of Grandpa was but I will tell you of some of those memories.

Grandpa had a funny bump on his head that had no hair on it. We kids liked to push on it as he was sitting in his chair and he would make a funny noise when we did. What great fun that was, I hope for him too. He told us that he got that bump when he was a teenager. He and his brothers were cutting down huge trees in the river bottom in Iowa and sometimes they would get up in the tree and ride it down. One time a branch flew up and hit his head and that bump was the result. This seems unbelievable, but grandpa said it was the truth.

Grandpa loved to tell stories and he would repeat with impunity the oaths that others said, but would never curse himself. There were a lot of ethnic groups in Iowa as he grew up and he would tell stories about them. One story was about two guys that were arguing over a steak so they agreed to hold each end in their mouth and pull. One guy said "is you ready", and the guy said "ya" and that settled their argument. Maybe you have to think about that one. I forget what ethnic group they were. I could tell you lots of stories about ethnic groups that he told me and none of them were mean spirited.

When I would sit at the table with him, sometimes Grandpa would reach over and pinch my leg. Maybe it hurt a little but I liked it. One time we had quite a crowd for dinner so I had to sit with the kids and a lady named Mrs. Gross sat next to him. I said, "Watch out Mrs. Gross, grandpa might pinch your leg". I got kidded about that for years. He had other hijinks at the table; he would say something like, “look at that bird outside” and then he would steal something off our plate. We always got it back and we loved it.

Grandpa sometimes would come walking home leading his horse and with a great big bull snake wrapped around his arm. He would turn it loose in the garden to eat the vermin and maybe the rattlesnakes. He was otherwise a real enemy of snakes, rattlesnakes that is. When he encountered a rattlesnake he would get off his horse and snap off his reins, then he would nudge the snake out of a sagebrush with the point of his boot and kill it with his reins. He would actually pull a rattlesnake out of a hole by the tail when they left it in sight and doubled back to bite. He knew how to do it and never got bit.

Sometimes I would ride horseback with him out around the sheep or something. He would stop, let the horses graze, and lay down on a nice piece of grass and sleep. I couldn't relax, I was worried about snakes, about the horses getting away, everything. He was worried about nothing.

One of the things that grandpa taught me to do involved a horse fly. We had these great big horse flies and we would catch them and then tie a thread around their neck and lead them around as they flew. I suppose that he taught me how to stick a grass straw up a frogs rear end and then blow on it just enough so that when you put the frog back in the pond they could swim, but they couldn't dive. Eventually enough of the air worked itself out that the frog dived and went his own way. I know, that was terrible of me.

One time the Christiansen cousins and we Lavell kids were playing on a frozen reservoir next to our Grandparents ranch. We saw hundreds of fish under the edge of the ice, seemingly trying to get air. We told the adults about it and they caught several hundred of them and put them in other reservoirs on the farm. We ate a few of the bigger ones. Afterward, they decided to feed the fish that were left in there. Grandpa carried a great big tub full of chicken innards to put in a hole in the ice so they could eat it. As he walked out to do that the ice gave way and he went into the cold water up to his shoulders. We kids laughed and after a short pause, Grandpa laughed right along with us. That was a great adventure in our lives.

In his later years, sadly, Grandpa got very senile. We didn't call it Alzheimers but it probably was. The last time I saw him, they were living in Miles City. He was sitting on the couch alone looking very lost. I sat down beside him. He would say things like, “whose kids are you anyway?”, so he didn't know me. I decided that if he couldn't tell me stories that I would tell them to him. I would say, Grandpa, do you remember when you did such and such and so and so. He would say, "Did I do that"? After telling him a bunch of stories he began to warm up himself and he told me some stories. I wish that I could have been with him more in those last days.

I could tell you lots more stories about Grandpa, but I better stop for now. Maybe after I take care of my chickens and eat lunch I will remember some more stories that I just have to tell.