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Chris Fabry
Married to Andrea since 1982. We have 9 children together and none apart. Our dog's name is Tebow.
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Where We Are Now

After finding and remediating mold twice in our Colorado home, we abandoned ship in October 2008. Because of the high levels of exposure, our entire family was affected. After months of seeing different specialists for all of the problems, we came to Arizona to begin comprehensive treatment to rid our bodies of the toxic buildup. In August 2009 we moved into a larger home, four bedrooms, south of Tucson, north of Mexico. I am doing my daily radio program/ writing from that location. Thanks for praying for us. We really feel it.

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Sunday, June 10, 2012
I can't help but think of my grandfather on Sunday mornings like this. He died when I was a boy, but I still remember him staying with us at our home, in one of the back bedrooms. He had pared his life down to only a few possessions, clothes, his tobacco pipe, and a black and white TV.

He watched Walter Cronkite on that TV and while my brothers watched "The Invaders" and other spooky shows, I would go into his room and watch Red Skelton.

My grandfather had a farm with chickens and apple trees and pigs and rows of sweet corn and other vegetables. What I remember most about that house is two rooms: the kitchen and the sun room at the front. The sun room had a checker board and other games and I spent time there playing with things and taking in the aged smells of old trunks. I imagined they were filled with letters from famous dead people or maybe gold. There were pictures of my grandmother, long gone, and other relatives who were distant memories.

In the kitchen was his iron skillet. It seemed to fill the room. He would cook on a gas stove and get the skillet scalding hot, then cook eggs and onions. Though I can't remember much interaction with him, I imagine him telling me to sit down and eat. He had a heavy German accent. My brother was skinny and had to jump around in the shower to get wet. My grandfather would say, "Eat! Eat! You vill dry up and blow avay!"

He cooked a lot of eggs in that skillet. And this morning, when I put the butter in the pan and smelled the onions, I thought of him again.

1 comments:

Joanne Bischof said...

The Flog always makes me smile. Trunks filled with old letters and gold...nothing like a child's imagination :) My Pawpaw died when I was little but I'll never forget going with him to the seashore to look at lobsters. Or his big Greek hands. Such fond memories.