Icons of Yore: The Breakfast Express

Unfortunately as a teenager I had a habit of missing the bus to school and later on when working in the shoe shop, I might've been "out late" the night before and Mom couldn't get me going in time to ride with her. So I'd drag my dead ass up to Gram and Gramp's to catch a ride on what I fondly call The Breakfast Express, which wasn't so much a particular transportation device (though I remember it mostly as that black early '70's Olds Cutlass 2dr or the 4dr from the '60's before it), as it was the people on it and what they were doing.

Who were these people, you ask? They were Stan and Geneva (Gram and Gramp), like it was one person because they were always together it seems, and occasionally yours truly riding in the back along with chain saws and dinnerware. What were they doing? Aside from seeming to be running late, Gram would have a plate in her lap with eggs, bacon and toast, which she would be cutting up and feeding to Gramp while he was driving us to our destination.

Now people with better story-telling skills can describe the scene better and you "had to be there" to understand truly how comical and cunnin' it was, but that's one of the fondest memories I have of my grandparents and is truly a metaphor for the kind of relationship they had...symbiotic, a team (kind of a quirky team) made up of the strengths and weaknesses of the players.

And it seems to me these rides also involved tea on a saucer and maybe a donut, a newspaper and a fair amount of fussing and grumbling; but I think you get the picture, especially if you too had the pleasure of riding on the Breakfast Express.



(Editor's note: Right now the stories are centered on Stan and Geneva but please feel free to volunteer to contribute stories about other aspects of being a Basford, whether it centers around them or not, whether it takes place on Basford Rd or not. Right now I miss them both terribly but I think we owe it to them to put forth the effort to share their memory. I think we also can use this as an excuse to bring the family closer together. If anyone has a picture of either car, please email me.)

The Basford Family Picnics

When you're a kid summer is the best time of the year. With no school you have all day to play, getting dirty and in trouble are the staples of an active kids life. But for a Basford kid there was that one special summer day, the family picnic. Every year the Basford clan would meet at Manson Park. The Partriarch and Matriarch of the family being Gram and Gramp, then the 5 "kids", and finally most of the 20 grandchildren. I always looked forward to that day. When I was much younger it was great because Uncle J would come out from NY and that meant getting to see Cousins M and T, the one day of the year that I knew I'd get to hang out with them. It also meant that Uncle B would be up from Saco. Of course Aunt J and Aunt P would be there too bringing the cousins in tow. Looking back that was the biggest deal, having everyone all in one place for most of a day. It didn't seem like that at the time, as a kid there were more important things on my mind.

First and foremost was the family softball game. I can remember being so excited about it, pestering Dad about when we would play, it seemed to take forever to eat and get the "grown ups" ready to play. Everyone played too, well except for maybe Gram, I don't remember her ever playing. I remember her sitting and watching. Looking back she must have so proud, her entire family playing together, laughing, competing...........Uncle J would always, more than likely several times, hold the bat by the barrel and try to hit the ball. I laughed every time too, funny what we remember isn't it. It was at one of these games when Gramp gave me the first piece of baseball advise. I was like 9 or 10 I think and of course I wanted to do everything. I was especially excited because Gramp was on my team and the gown ups let me pitch. We took the field first, my memory tells me that I struck out the side but that maybe skewed a little. When we came in to hit I wanted to bat first (of course). Gramp told me that you never have your pitcher hit lead off, it's just not done. So one of the other kids hit first. Of course I see this now for what it was, not baseball advise so much as a creative way for a Grandparent to keep a grandchild from being selfish. Well played Gramp.......as always.

At some point tennis would be played. I can remember Uncle J playing against Gramp and Dad playing against Uncle B.

Of course no Basford family gathering would be complete with out food, lots and lots of food. Burgers and dogs were the center piece of course, but there was Aunt J's coleslaw too, the adults raved about it.

Then came that fateful summer, it had to happen eventually, though as a kid I couldn't fathom it. One the saddest moments I can remember, the first summer with no family picnic. What do you mean there's not going to be a picnic????? There's always a picnic......there was always the softball game......How could this be happening????

We don't have the picnics at Manson Park anymore, but usually there's a cook out at Mom and Dad's where most of everyone makes it. Those are great times, getting caught up with everyone you don't see that often. Plenty of laughter, lots of singing, if Dad has his way, and loads of Sox talk........but it's not the same, there's no softball, and this year, for the first time in all of our memories neither the Matriarch nor the Patriarch will be there, sitting quietly, taking everything in.

We all love and miss you Gramp........

A Fine Example

You've heard me rant before about the nature of the average human being, how selfish and arrogant and frankly idiotic most are. This entry will not be another of those but a tribute to the kind of person who seems to have gone extinct.My grandfather passed away yesterday morning after a few years of ailing health. He was a man of few words, yet you always knew where he stood. There was no fudging the line between right and wrong with him. He believed what he believed without hesitation and his actions always comported with those beliefs.He was a child of the Depression, one of The Greatest Generation; people who knew hard work and hardship, yet were always there to lend a helping hand or give a piece of important advice, WHEN ASKED. He was never one to meddle in your business but you always knew the answer to a dilemma by watching the way he lived his life.No truer proof of the quality of people exists than the quality of their children. My grandparents raised some of the most genuine, kind and hard working people you'll meet...learned, charitable and respectful to all, just like they were.My grandfather was like a second father to me, except he was always there when you needed him; a counterbalancing force to the man who was my biological father. If you needed some cash, he'd put you to work; if you needed some advice, pull out the cribbage board and have a chat. He never uttered many words but said much.I could go on and on and on with specific examples of my fondest memories -- from working cutting wood with him, to playing on a softball team together when I was a teen and he was 60, to the way he looked through you peering over his glasses with that "no bullshit" way of his -- but the point of this post is merely to attempt to articulate what an important person he was to me and how he'll truly be missed as an example of the way people should be.

(Note that this was originally posted on All Things Zebster because there are some comments you might want to read there)