Gramps was an adventurer and a storyteller. The most prominent images I have are of him sitting at the head of the kitchen table sharing tales of hunting camp until he laughed so hard he cried. He taught me how to shoot a gun and how to ride a horse. He always encouraged us to go outside and get dirty. It's probably for the best that he didn't live long enough to see kids playing with iPads instead of in mud puddles.
Meme was the hardest working lady with the kindest heart I've ever known. Her hands were always busy doing something for someone else. She was a cook and a gardener, a seamstress and a farmer. She made the best cinnamon rolls, grew the prettiest tomatoes, and her sewing machine could create something out of nothing. Meme loved her cows and chickens and protected them fearlessly. I'll never forget the time I saw her whip a giant black snake out of the barn with her bare hands.
Grandpa was a creative genius and problem solver. He built an irrigation system to make his garden thrive in the heat of summer. His tractor was a shuttle to pull his grandkids to the top of the snowy sledding hill, which became a driving range for our family of golfers in the off season. Branson entertainers were inspired by his musical ability and Grandpa's songwriting made me Santa's sweetheart. His uncanny talent as an electrician made him an invaluable consultant for an unnamed magician. His workshop was a treasure trove of repurposed items used to make whatever you needed a little better and most certainly one of a kind.
Grandma was a woman of wit and encouragement and to her I owe my love of sports. After Sunday dinner, Grandma and I would watch tennis on TV while listening to the Cardinals on the radio. She was an equal opportunity sports lover and followed everything--football, golf, basketball and especially St. Louis baseball. Like I said earlier, she could watch one sport, listen to another and be able to tell you exactly what was going on in either game. She was a St. Louis football fan until the Cardinals left for Arizona. Grandma said after that she could never be a fan of another Missouri football team, so it's her fault I cheer for the Tampa Bay Buccaneers.
Beyond my genetic grandparents, I also had the pleasure of being granddaughter-in-law to the Coughennowers--two of the most genuinely nice people I've ever known. Together they were charming and hospitable, welcoming me into their family with open arms. It's hard to picture one without the other, because they were a perfect pair. Since Grandma Coughennower passed away in November, Grandpa C. is my sole surviving grandparent. You're likely to find him traveling between Iowa and Texas, playing games or watching college sports. I would like to hear his thoughts on Iowa State in the NCAA Sweet 16.
I could go on and on about the role each grandparent played in shaping my character. And yesterday, at the funeral of a best friend's grandpa, I was reminded of all the many other grandparents who have touched my life in some way. Chaperones, cheerleaders, mentors, friends. All have changed my life for the better.
But perhaps the greatest legacy they all leave behind is their fierce love of God and family. Ask any of their grandchildren and they're likely to tell you that they are the favorite. And that's saying a lot because there are more than quite a few of us Bass and Rose kids. We all have different memories, or the same memories from different perspectives. They loved us each uniquely and took seriously their role of grandparent. I learned a lot of valuable life lessons from each of my grandparents and my only regret is that most of them won't have the ability to personally impact my children's lives the way they did mine.
It's now my responsibility to make sure they continue to live on in the memories and stories I pass on to the next generation. My kids can't know them personally, but they can know what awesome people they come from.
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