My Norski Grandpa had many songs and poems that the main theme was “don’t count on a dozen cowards to help you, just ask a single Norwegian to fix it”
He measured 6’ 6” when he was 70 ... I don’t know how tall he was when he was younger.
I watched him pull a wood fencepost out of the ground, spin it to remove the staples and barb wire and hit a Stallion right between the eyes that was attacking my sister ... took him all of 3 seconds and he was 69 years old at the time... knocked the Stallion out cold and had his pocket knife out to finish the job and my Dad stopped him, Dad just said “GLUE” Grandpa just said “SOON”.
And he Yodeled from hill tops (had quite a following, Grandma was English and not amused by the bevy of not so young loveleys Grandpa assembled)
He sounded awesome! I know you miss him.