My Opa... or Seppel as everyone used to call him

You may be wondering why I haven’t said much about my Opa thus far. Well that’s because he was just always there, in the background lol. We never “heard” much from him unless he felt the need to share something or he was angry.  I have fleeting memories of going with him to the off-track Horse Betting Parlors. It was a place where all his cronies gathered on a regular basis to socialize, drink their warm beers, smoke their non-filter cigarettes and discuss the Horse News. Back in those days there was no television covering the races – No simulcast as we know it today :0)... Only a small radio, with the announcers’ voice giving you the gallop by gallop (so to speak).  With all of this going on around me, I would sit quietly – licking the Ice Cream Opa bought me – and just observe.

     I've always been pretty much and loner/observer… although the “observer” may now be considered a Mrs. Kravitz lol. Ok, I admit it freely – I am nosy, but I believe we should all be aware of what’s going on around us. Hmpf. :0).

     Opa rarely got angry, in fact I only saw him really mad once and that was at me (of course lol).  Yeah I can laugh about it now but back then... Oh boy was I in a lot of trouble. I believe I may have been 10 or 11 at the time and I had spent the night at my girlfriends’ house, Barbara.  They had an actual bathroom with a real tub :). Well we were playing and I didn't feel like going home so I stayed the night, which would have been alright had I told my Oma about it beforehand. But I didn't and since we didn't have a phone I couldn't call to tell her.  So when I got home the next morning my Opa was waiting for me at the front door of our apartment.

     The apartment was laid out like this: Walk thru the front door into a little foyer – on your right was the door to the kitchen, through which I had to go to get to my room. In front of you was the door to the living room, through which you had to go to get to my grandparents room. Well I stepped into the foyer about to explain what happened and my Opa, a man of few words, smacked me upside down my head so hard that I “flew” from the foyer into the kitchen, almost crashing into my bedroom door. WOW. I was in so much shock that I don’t recall what he said, if anything, and I didn't even cry. After that he just picked up his lunchbox and walked quietly out the door. That was the only time he ever hit me. Heck, who would want a repeat of that lol… Not me, that’s for sure :0).

     Nowadays that would be considered child abuse and I’m sure that some would argue and not agree with what my Opa did. That’s alright; we are all entitled to our own opinions. I may not condone his method but I’ll tell you this, it worked for me. Nuff said :0)
Next up... my Imaginary Friends ~