Papa’s Little Girl
2nd Draft
Papa’s Little Girl
“For death is no more than a turning of us over from time to eternity,” quoted by William Penn. On October 11, 2005 Terry Zorko of Home, PA passed away. My Grandpa was gone, just like that, and I was still spinning with confusion. How could someone that great be taken away from me? Not even a full calendar year before he was gone forever, he found out he had lung cancer. The doctors were unable to operate and remove the masses; the type papa had spread by contact of air. This left him only with chemo treatments and prayers.
As I sit her and write this to my readers, I have tears running down my cheeks. My mood is bittersweet, because I have to realize that I have been blessed with what I had with my Grandfather. Even though Papa became very thin and not himself from the chemo, he still was my Papa. As his energy was drained and all he could do was sleep, he was still my Papa. With the chemo, Papa lost his voice; all he was left with was a whisper. That great laugh that used to put the biggest smile on my face was gone. Along with his wonderful voice, he lost his ability to taste, a sense that I used to take for granted.
“And for you sir?” the waitress asked as Papa still was going over the menu intensely. As he raised his head, he replied with “Two dozen wings with your extra hot buffalo sauce with an extra cup of sauce on the side please.”
Little did I know, at six years old, that my taste buds were going to experience some intense heat that particular Wednesday evening at the famous Rayne Drop Inn. I still remember the restaurant, like it was yesterday. Rayne Drop was located right off of 119, a medium size brick building with a bar on the left side, and a dining area on the other. Every Wednesday night, my family and I would go for wing night and every week I would share the onion blossom and provolone cheese sticks with my sisters, Bridget and Meghan. This particular night, I was feeling brave. My Grandpa was so great in my eyes, I thought everything he did was so interesting and amazing, and I wanted to be just like him. Papa could sit at that old wooden table, with a whole roll of paper towels to his left and his extra hot, hot sauce to his right and go to town, never once showing any sort of discomfort from the spiciness. Tonight, I was going to show him I could be just like him.
“Papa, could I please try one of your wings?” I said, as my mom tucked a napkin in the front of my shirt and I rolled my sleeves up getting ready for the messy finger food. I still remember the response well, as he licked his fingers clean all the while smiling with the best grin I have ever seen, he replied, “Of course Shan, just be careful they are very hot.” Of course, in the back of my mind, I was thinking they would be hot. But, keep in mind, at six years old my senses for these types of things were not exactly up to par.
As I bit into the crispy and yet moist chicken wing, the taste was like no other. The taste was a mixture of crispy chicken along with a spicy, buttery, tangy sauce that was delicious at first and then lethal afterwards. To say the least, it felt like my throat was on fire, which may have been exaggerated a little. As I scrambled for glass after glass of water and piece after piece of bread to absorb the hot sensation in my mouth, Papa sat cautiously making sure I was ok and kept refilling my water glass.
Surprisingly, after that night, I ordered a dozen of wings once a week with my Grandpa. Keep in mind I stuck with the mild sauce. I proudly would sit right beside him eating our wings together. In my mind, I was just like him. My Grandpa was there for a lot of my first-time experiences growing up. This memory has had the greatest impact on me, because wings were his favorite food, along with pepperoni pizza with anchovies. Pizza with anchovies I can honestly say I never had the want to try.
The memories I have with my Grandpa are still fresh in my head, as I write this to my readers I have found myself going back to those days. Every Wednesday after school, my sisters and I would pile into our white Ford Expedition with my Grandma and Mom. We would go down to our families business and pick up my Dad and Grandpa. As we rode the 15 minute drive to the restaurant Papa and the three of us would sing b-i-n-g-o the whole way there; that song never seemed to get old. Papa used to have this wonderful huge laugh, I would get goose bumps and it was extremely contagious. Pretty soon, everyone in the car would be laughing uncontrollably.
“I love people who make me laugh. I honestly think it’s the thing I like most, to laugh. It cures a multitude of ills. It’s probably the most important thing in a person,” quoted by Audrey Hepburn. This quote seemed very appropriate to me to add for this essay, simply because Papa had this way of making Bridget, Meghan and I feel so unique and classy, like Audrey. Papa did make me laugh too, which is my favorite thing to do. Like the saying goes, Live, Laugh and Love.
My Grandpa is a huge part of my life. At the age of two I was right there on his lap riding the tractor around the yard. Every weekend in the summer we would go fishing at our pond, I had the best bright blue Mickey Mouse tackle box. Papa taught me to drive, every Saturday morning he would come and wake me up and we would go driving all day long. I could go on and on about my relationship with my Grandpa and the great experiences I got to share with him, but it always goes back to the famous Buffalo wings at Rayne Drop.
Once a week I go to Papa’s grave and just sit for a while. Even though I know he is not there anymore, it comforts me in its own way. Papa is in heaven, he accepted Jesus Christ as his savior and he is no longer suffering. When I think of that, it brings comfort to me I just sometimes wish I still had him with me.
To this day, I will not go to Rayne Drop Inn. Yes, that may sound a little much but it is one of the ways I deal with my loss. Everyone deals with things different, that is what makes living so interesting. I just really hope, I have taken my readers back in time to the memories I have had with my Grandpa. I truly have recreated this wonderful time in my life in this writing.
My memory is only mine; no one else has control over this great feature within me. Everyone has a way of creating these great experiences and mine has resided in simply my ability to taste. Not all of my memories can be triggered as easily as taking a bite of a buffalo wing. At the time, I truly regretted my choice of biting into the lethal food but I would truly do it all over again to just spend one more day with Papa.
Every year on October 11th my subconscious tells me the day is here. And my mind wonders back to the day he had to go. His time here on earth was up, and with time, I have learned to accept this. I have researched the word Grandpa just to see if anyone has captured the true meaning of the word. All I find is the common responses to the word, the father of a father or mother, a man who is an ancestor, etc. This leads me to the conclusion that I, as a person, have my own personal meaning of the word. I have a lifetime of memories that define my Papa, and I will have that within me until the day I join him in heaven. This factor is enough to get me through each day.
Before Essay #1:
My goal for my first narrative essay was to take a memory from my life, and put it down on paper. To explain that a simple taste of something can trigger so many emotions, so many memories in just one bite. My audience for this piece is Marlen and my classmates. I really am aiming for getting my thoughts out well with this essay, hopefully showing that with writing, I can recreate a scene in my memory that has played a big part in my life. Also, while writing this essay, I hope to recreate the memories for myself, to enjoy this just as much as my readers will.
‘And for you sir,’ the waitress said as Papa still was going over the menu intensely. As he raised his head, he replied with ‘two dozen wings with your extra hot buffalo sauce with an extra cup of sauce on the side please.’
As stated on dictionary.com, a buffalo wing is a small deep-fried chicken wings cooked in spicy hot cayenne pepper sauce, esp. served as an appetizer with blue cheese dressing and celery sticks; also called Buffalo chicken wings.
Little did I know, at six years old, my taste buds were going to experience some intense heat that particular Wednesday evening at Rayne Drop Inn. I still remember the restaurant, like it was yesterday. Located right off of 119, a medium size brick building with a bar on left side, a dining area on the other. Every Wednesday night my family and I would go for wing night and every week I would share the onion blossom and provolone cheese sticks with my sisters. This particular night, I was feeling brave. My grandpa was so great in my eyes, I thought everything he did was so interesting and amazing, and I wanted to be just like him. Papa could sit at that old wooden table, with a whole roll of paper towels to his left and his extra hot, hot sauce to his right and go to town, never once showing any sort of discomfort from the spiciness. Tonight, I was going to show him I could be just like him.
‘Papa, could I please try one of your wings?’ I said as my mom tucked a napkin in the front of my shirt and I rolled my sleeves up getting ready for the messy finger food. I still remember the response well, as he licked his fingers clean all the while smiling with the best grin I have ever seen he replied, ‘of course shanookers, just be careful they are very hot.’ Of course, in the back of mind, I was thinking they would be hot. But, keep in mind, at six years old my senses for these types of things are not exactly up to par.
As I bit into the crispy and yet moist chicken wing, the taste was like no other. The taste was a mixture of crispy chicken along with a spicy, buttery, tangy sauce that was delicious at first and then lethal afterwards. To say the least, it felt like my throat was on fire, which may have been exaggerated a little. As I scrambled for glass after glass of water and piece after piece of bread to absorb the hot sensation in my mouth, papa sat cautiously making sure I was ok and kept refilling my water glass.
Surprisingly, after that night, I ordered a dozen of wings once a week with my grandpa. Keep in mind; I stuck with the mild sauce. I would sit their proudly right beside him eating our wings together, in my mind, I was just like him. My grandpa was there for a lot of my first-time experiences growing up. This memory has had the greatest impact on me, because wings were his favorite food, along with pepperoni pizza with anchovies. Pizza with anchovies I can honestly say I never had the want to try.
The memories I have with my grandpa are still fresh in my head, as I write this to my readers I have found myself going back to those days. Every Wednesday after school my sisters and I would pile into our white ford expedition with my grandma and mom. We would go down to our families business and pick up my dad and grandpa. As we rode the 15 minute drive to the restaurant papa and the three of us would sing b-i-n-g-o the whole way there; that song never seemed to get old. Papa used to have this wonderful huge laugh, I would get goose bumps and it was extremely contagious. Pretty soon everyone in the car would be laughing uncontrollably.
“I love people who make me laugh. I honestly think it’s the thing I like most, to laugh. It cures a multitude of ills. It’s probably the most important thing in a person,” quoted by Audrey Hepburn. This quote seemed very appropriate to me to add for this essay, simply because papa had this way of making Bridget, Meghan and I feel so unique and classy, like Audrey. Papa did make me laugh too, which is my favorite thing to do. Like the saying goes, live laugh and love.
I knew my papa my entire life; at the age of two I was right there on his lap riding the tractor around the yard. Every weekend in the summer we would go fishing at our pond, I had the best bright blue Mickey Mouse tackle box. Papa taught me to drive, every Saturday morning he would come and wake me up and we would go driving all day long. I could go on and on about my relationship with my grandpa and the great experiences I got to share with him, but this essay has a page limit.
“For death is no more than a turning of us over from time to eternity,” quoted by William Penn. On October 11, 2005 Terry Zorko of Home, PA passed away. My grandpa was gone, just like that, and I was still spinning with confusion. How could someone that great be taken away from me? Six months before he was gone, he found out he had lung cancer. The doctors were unable to operate and remove the masses; the type papa had spread by contact of air. This left him only with chemo treatments and prayers.
As I sit her and write this to my readers, I have tears running down my cheeks. My mood is bittersweet, because I have to realize that I have been blessed with what I had with my grandfather. Even though Papa became very thin and not himself from the chemo, he still was my papa. As his energy was drained and all he could do was sleep, he was still my papa. With the chemo, papa lost his voice; all he was left with was a whisper. That great laugh that used to put the biggest smile on my face was gone.
Once a week I go to papa’s grave and just sit for a while. Even though I know he is not there anymore, it comforts me in its own way. Papa is in heaven, he accepted Jesus Christ as his savior and he is no longer suffering. When I think of that, it brings comfort to me I just sometimes wish I still had him with me.
To this day, I will not go to Rayne Drop Inn. Yes, that may sound a little much but it is one of the ways I deal with my loss. Everyone deals with things different, that is what makes living so interesting. I just really hope, as my readers, I have taken you back in time to the memories I have had with my grandpa. I truly have recreated this wonderful time in my life in this writing.
My memory is only mine; no one else has control over this great feature within me. Everyone has a way of creating these great experiences and mine has resided in simply my ability to taste. Not all of my memories can be triggered as easily as taking a bite of a buffalo wing. At the time, I truly regretted my choice of biting into the lethal food but I would truly do it all over again to just spend one more day with papa.
Every year on October 11th my subconscious tells me the day is here. And my mind wonders back to the day he had to go. His time here on earth was up, and with time, I have learned to accept this better. I have researched the word grandpa just to see if anyone has captured the true meaning of the word. All I find is the common responses to the word, the father of a father or mother, a man who is an ancestor, etc. This leads me to the conclusion that I, as a person, have my own personal meaning of the word. I have a lifetime of memories that define my papa, and I will have that within in me until the day I join him in heaven. This factor is enough to get me through each day. I love you papa, love your little girl xoxo.
Work Cited
Hepburn, Audrey. “Audrey Hepburn quotes.”
<http://en.thinkexist.com/quotes/Audrey_Hepburn/>
Penn, William. “William Penn Quotes.”
<http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/authors/w/william_penn.html>
Webster’s New Millennium™ Dictionary of English. “Buffalo Wings.”
Preview Edition (v 0.9.7).
http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/Buffalo%20Wings
After Essay #1:
This essay really has affected me. After I wrote this I did not realize what a strong impact my grandpa still has on me. I traveled back to my memories while I let my thoughts flow through my fingers to the keyboard. I truly feel that this essay is still not finished. I believe I will honestly never feel that this writing is complete, I could go on and on with this subject. I personally, feel that I have somewhat reached my goals I set for myself before writing this essay. The word count for my essay is 1,396. I hope my readers enjoy this piece.
