Don’t blink — it goes by quick

Phil Cobb

I won’t say that I am or that I’m not a country music fan because I’m not sure what that means anymore.

Give me some Johnny Cash, Merle Haggard, Waylon Jennings, Willie Nelson — even more recent artists like George Strait, Garth Brooks, Alan Jackson — and I can sing along to most anything they offer.

To be fair, I just haven’t kept up with it in recent years.

Every once in a while, when I’m flipping through the stations to find a Royals game, a tune will catch my ear.

I love “People are Crazy” by Billy Currington.

One song that was released relatively recently that especially rings true to me is “Don’t Blink” by Kenny Chesney.

I literally can’t listen to that song without tears coming to my eyes.

Trust me friend a hundred years goes faster than you think

So don’t blink …

Cause when your hourglass runs out of sand

You can’t flip it over and start again

Take every breath God gives you for what it’s worth …

If he was still living, my Grandpa Wilson would have been 100 years old Tuesday.

Other than his gravestone, you won’t find any monuments to Elvin Eugene “Oscar” Wilson.

He was a common man of his generation.

He was one of 13 children born to Emmitt and Lois Wilson of Orrick, Missouri.

Emmitt was killed by a drunk driver while walking home from Richmond.

My grandpa was stationed in Germany during World War II.

Later he became a union carpenter, working mostly in Kansas City.

Like I said, nothing extraordinary.

He was a lot like a lot of men from that generation.

He was a common man who enjoyed simple pleasures.

And that’s what I remember most about my grandpa.

My grandpa and grandma, Wilma Wilson, raised five children, including my mom, on “Water Tower Hill” in Richmond, Missouri.

I spent a lot of time at their house when I was little.

I didn’t know it at the time, but it was a very tiny house for seven people to live in.

When you’re that young, I guess, your mind absorbs anything and everything you experience, so I have many fond, vivid memories of my grandpa.

But some of the things that stand out the most are fishing, gardening, carpentry, and mowing the yard.

Again, I didn’t realize it at the time, but now I know he didn’t just fish and garden as hobbies or for the fun of it, he did so to put food on the table.

His yard and garden took up half a city block in Richmond.

Obviously, that was one huge garden.

He grew all kinds of vegetables in that garden, but what I remember most is pulling up radishes and green onions, wiping them off on my pants and eating them right there.

I also remember digging potatoes and storing them in his garden cellar.

Some of those potatoes would end up in the house, obviously, and sometimes, when grandma wasn’t looking, we’d go to the “back porch” with a salt shaker and eat a “raw tater.”

We did a lot of fishing when I stayed with my grandparents.

I remember getting up at like 3:30 a.m. so we could be to a favorite fishing spot by sun-up.

I also remember the sound of their AM radio and the smell of “dough bait” in the air.

One of my biggest regrets in life is not getting the recipe from my grandma before she died.

One of their favorite spots was Wakenda.

For the longest time, I thought the name of it was “Walkin’ Tall.”

Usually it was any place that had overflow from the Missouri River.

For the most part we fished for carp and catfish, but occasionally we would catch a buffalo or a drum.

On rare occasion, we would hook into a turtle or even a dreaded gar.

According to my memory, I caught at least one fish every time I went fishing with my grandparents.

We always came home with a stringer full of fish in the trunk of the Buick.

Grandpa would always put a cutting board across a couple of saw horses and clean the fish right there in his driveway.

Another memory is that of Grandpa mowing his yard.

Like I said, his property took up half a block and the yard took up half of that.

He had a push mower and a very small riding mower.

I don’t think Grandpa liked mowing the grass, because I seem to remember him being in a bad mood when he had to complete that chore.

He was adamant about thoroughly cleaning out the mowing decks with a putty knife afterward.

Sometimes he would let me drive the rider up the ramp and into the shed.

That was a big deal for a 5-year-old.

When we were finished, we’d go in and get a drink of cold water out of one of the glass bottles in the refrigerator.

I remember my grandpa liking cold beer and crossword puzzles.

Simple pleasures for a simple man.

I wonder what memories my future grandchildren will have of their childhood.

I hope it’s not of their favorite fidget spinner or cell phone app.

Think about it.

And don’t blink.

Phil Cobb is the owner and publisher of the Maryville Daily Forum and The Post.