My Grandpa Lied To Me

…but in all fairness, it was probably for the best.

I was five years old and my parents were traveling salespersons (people?), so I lived with my grandparents when mom and dad were out on the road.

My grandpa was a medic in Korea and hadn’t been home too long when this all began.

I suppose I could say that explains his behavior.

It probably does, but these are not things a 5-yr. old will contemplate.

Since I adored him I never let him far out of my sight.  It was as if there was a short umbilical between us.

This annoyed him to no end.

I suppose that could be why he lied to me.  He’d had enough and was trying to get some breathing space.

I don’t know, I just thought when he told me we were going “giggin” and how much fun it would be, that I was embarking on a great, nighttime adventure with my grandpa.

All the way to the lake, or pond or whatever it was I kept asking grandpa what we were going to do.

He was rather vague.

If I’d of been more savvy I’d of been suspicious.

Of course, if he and his cohorts had been more sober I doubt I’d be telling this story.

Alas, neither are true.

We arrived at the lake, pond or whatever it was and got into these really small canoes. I mean, they were sooooo narrow. Even at five, it was difficult for me to stand with my feet together.  The men had to stand with one foot in front of the other or sit on one of the small slats that served as seats.

We slowly glided along the shoreline and up to a field of lily pads.

There we sat, four boats side by side.

The men were using flashlights to look out across the lily pads and whispering to another.

“Hey, toss me a beer.”

I sat still, waiting and for what I had no clue.

Suddenly, one of the guys in my canoe jumped up from his seat and gigged a huge bullfrog with a spear that looked to be about nine feet long to a 5-yr. old.

I screamed.


I also began to panic and jump up and down in the canoe.  Just as it capsized, dumping grandpa and his friend still holding onto the spear with the bloody bullfrog on the end, into the cold knee-deep water, someone from another canoe grabbed me by the collar and dragged me onboard.

I continued to scream…the whole time.

The guys decided it was time to go.

I stopped screaming and began to cry hysterically.

I cried all the way home, and it was over an hour’s drive back to the house.

I never went “giggin” again, and I never really trusted grandpa when he asked me if I wanted to go on an “adventure” again, either.  

His plan had worked and from then on I kept my distance from him.

Well played, grandpa, well played indeed.

Posted on November 17, 2011, in Posts, Random Crap and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink. 8 Comments.


    In Jamaica, uncles do that; not grandpas. And then grandpa chides his sons for that 😀

  2. “Snipe Hunting” is nothing like hunting for coons. Jes’ saying.

  3. Wow. My parents took me to see our slaughtered pig when I was 4 years old. I didn’t see the slaughtering, but just saw the aftermath. I think this is worse since you saw the deed in action and were in a tiny boat you could fall out of. Yikes!

    • Yes..and it didn’t help that Grandpa was a little off-center and not all that fond of me to begin with. Funny how I can remember the details after all these years. It must have made quite an impression on me.

  4. I recall seeing a chicken running around headless at some point from my childhood but I can’t say I remember the actual beheading – thank goodness! What a hair-raising experience it must have been!


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