The Atergater Ate His Arm

My Grandpa and Grandma Lantz would visit us at least once a year. For most of my childhood, they lived in Kansas City, Kansas until they later moved to Phoenix. Long before I was ever born, my grandfather had lost his arm in a printing press accident. It was at one time the family trade.

But, my Grandmother and I would tell you that he lost his arm when it was eaten by an alligator. (Or as our family called it- an atergator after my brother got the word wrong.) I remember vividly laying in my canopy bed with my grandmother. We would make up stories about how the atergator ate his arm. It was something that we did whenever I would get to see her.

At the time, it felt like the best place in the world. We would cuddle up in my bed and we’d tell stories. Each story was slightly different. But, it was always an atergator that chomped down on his arm. Being young, thankfully, the stories didn’t get gory after the chomping. . . that’s where the stories ended. My grandmother was always animated when she’d tell the stories and I’m sure I was quite silly. Sometimes my grandfather would get involved too!

I wish she was around to ask how the stories came about. I don’t remember. I would guess that it was in part because it was hard for a child to understand “printing press accident” or an attempt to make a child more comfortable with a grandfather who only had one hand. I do know that it’s one of my treasured memories from the little bit of time that I did get to spend with them.

Note: When looking through pictures of my grandma and grandpa that were posted online I found the above picture- one where he still had his arm. Of course, they were much older when I knew them. Looking through the pictures though, I found this one from the year before I was born. It’s remarkable to me how much she looks like I’ll always remember her.

Related posts:

1. Grandpa Jack (and an Uncle Gaugh tangent)
2. Sweets for Breakfast
3. The Power of Macaroni and Cheese
4. Sharing a Name
5. Poetry in Motion- Not!

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