Ode to Pappy

What is my fondest memory of Pappy (Bruce McEwin)? I suppose I cannot conjure up one singular moment, rather a myriad of memories flood my mind. When I think about my Pappy, my thoughts drift towards fresh tomatoes from the garden, newly shined shoes, a hot cup of coffee, and overalls. Pappy kept a clean shaven face, no hair on his head was ever out of place, and he always, always carried a pocket knife. I would also have to mention his magnificently clean trucks, the immaculate work shed where he built, repaired, and constructed just about anything he put his mind and his hands to. Baseball, my Pappy adored the game of baseball. He loved the game so much. He even got irritated to the point where he will just turn them off if they were playing poorly. I’ve heard him gripe at the pitcher, coach the batter, and correct the umpire.
I cannot talk about my Pappy without mentioning the one thing I grew to admire about him over the years. My Pappy loved my Nonna. He always had since he met her and he always will. I remember the way they made each other laugh. I didn’t understand what was so funny, but they would cut up like school kids. They obviously took the time to invest in each other. They shared hobbies, road trips, and their love. One night when I was visiting, Nonna and I were in the kitchen and the dogs started barking.
“Bruce…the dogs are worked up ‘bout something out there!” Pappy got up from his trademark rocker. I don’t know what they were barking at, but they sure better think of something. Pappy just wasn’t going to have any of that noise especially while he was relaxing.
He would do anything for Nonna. That taught me at an early age how men should treat women. I know that in his lifetime he gathered more wisdom than he had time to share. I loved to hear his stories. He had the sharpest memory, and he could tell some great stories.
The fondest memory of my Pappy is the picture of him finishing the last bite of Nonna’s homemade apple pie. Then he would take a sip of his coffee. He leaned back in his chair and put his hands on his head. He would relax in his chair, and begin taking you back to a time only he could tell about. After he finished a meal, hand him a toothpick and be prepared to laugh, learn and listen.


Bruce McEwin went to be with his Lord January, 23rd 2006. We miss you Pappy.