Grandpa Nordquist

It doesn’t feel like it’s been six years ago since Grandpa Nordquist passed away.

It’s hard not to think of Grandpa whenever I watch an NFL game and hear Pat Summerall’s voice. When we’d visit his house on a Sunday he’d be kicked back in his La-Z-Boy recliner watching football. I’d run downstairs and open the door to what felt like a cold dark cave. I’d find a seat on the couch and watch football with Grandpa while he’d ask me questions about the last game I’d played. I don’t remember him having a favorite team but he knew a lot about the Dallas Cowboy and SF 49’ers. He’d follow the careers of those players that went to the the University of Utah or BYU and would know how they played that week.

The game would eventually end and I’d we’d watch All in the Family before Grandma would call for us to come upstairs. Whenever I hear Carroll O’Connor and Jean Stapleton belt the first few lines of the theme song I’m reminded of Grandpa Nordquist and those fun times down in the basement.

“Boy, the way Glen Miller played. Songs that made the Hit Parade. Guys like us, we had it made. Those were the days!

Before I was old enough to land a real job I’d take the bus from Ogden to downtown Bountiful to mow his lawn. From there I’d run all the way up 5th south to Grandpa’s house where he’d be waiting for me in the shade on those teal colored outdoor chairs. I could always count on Grandpa to be a bit antsy if there were even a single cloud in the sky. I’d better fire up the mower before the rest of the clouds moved in.

When I’d finish mowing, edging and sweeping grandpa would have grandma retrieve a Coke from the basement. This was a real treat and I loved feeling like a bit of rebel knowing I was downing a full days supply of caffeine. Grandpa was a good man whose heart softened in the later stages of his life. He had a vulnerability mixed in among an, at times, tough exterior. I’ve thought about him often over the past six years and remember the good times we had together.