McDonalds coffee

I'm not a huge McDonald's fan, but there will always be a soft spot in my heart for the burger chain because it always makes me think of my Grandpa Blair. Grandpa loved to stop by McDonald's for a cup of coffee, and he'd always buy us kids an ice cream cone.

Grandpa Blair was a simple man, but a loving, warm, fun, kind, generous man. He liked to sit outside on a summer evening and watch the sun set, watch the fireflies come out, watch the grandkids run around the yard. He loved living up on the hill across from Uncle Burl's field where he could just look out and see trees and cows and grass. He loved drinking coffee, listening to country music, playing his guitar or banjo, and watching the evening news. He loved to read...pretty much anything, even my school books. And he never minded telling a story or two, especially of days on the old farm. And he loved his family.

My Grandpa Blair died last week, not unexpectedly. I flew out Friday for the Sunday funeral, which was a celebration of a full, rich life. A weekend full of family and memories. We'll all miss him, but we know that he's waiting for us somewhere, sitting on a front porch, drinking some McDonald's coffee.