Grandpa Gabrielsen

    I am writing a book of stories from my life.  It is called "Grandma's Stories."  Following is one of the stories from that book.

Grandpa Gabrielsen

This is Grandpa Lyman Conrad Gabrielsen, Sr. with my Grandma Erma Debora Adams Gabrielsen.  She died when I was just two -years-old.

This is Grandpa with his second wife, Beena.  I loved Beena.

I had a very fun Grandpa.  Lyman Conrad Gabrielsen, Sr. was his name.  He was a happy, smiley man who always had a twinkle in his eye.  He loved to play with us.  He had certain games that we always played with him.  He would make a coin disappear, then find it in my ear.  He did the grandpa machine (does this all sound familiar?) where he would lie on his back and I would stand at his head.  He would flip me over to his legs. We would giggle and rough house on the floor.  I am told, that he would do this with my older siblings as well and Grandma Gabrielsen would yell in from the kitchen, “Stop working those kids up!” I am sure there were other games as well.  My dad learned his grandpa skills by watching his own dad.

The thing I remember most about my Grandpa Gabrielsen were his stories.  The one he told most often is the following: (I can just picture him and almost hear him telling it with that twinkle in his eye.)

He said he and his friends were at the top of the mountain in Logan canyon.  To get down the mountain, they climbed the highest pine tree.

 

They held on tight to the branch and got it swinging and swinging.  When it was swinging big, they would jump and grab the highest bough of the next tree down the mountain.  That would start it swinging and swinging.  When it was at full swing, they would leap, catching a branch of the next tree down.  In this manner they would make their way down the entire mountain.

He told the story with such detail, that, to this day, I don’t know if it is true or not.  What do you think?  Is it possible?

He also loved to tell a story about his dad.  They would go up and stay in a cabin in Logan canyon.  They would take their food up in coolers and stay for as long as they could.  One day, a fly flew into the milk one of the kids was drinking.  Oh, yuck!  His grandpa fished the fly out and, to their surprise, put the fly in his own milk.  He then drained the glass of milk.  He then refilled his glass and drained that glass- all without saying a word.  It taught them a lesson, though, that they never forgot.

Grandpa also told stories of going up to “Grandpa’s Cave” and spending the night alone as a young teenager.  He talked about how scared he would get in that cave alone.  He told it with such detail, that I would get chills thinking of staying in a cave by myself.  We since have found Grandpa’s Cave.

I loved my Grandpa Lyman Conrad Gabrielsen, Sr.  He died when I was fifteen years old and because of fog, I was unable to fly out of Boise to attend his funeral.