CHAPTER 2
MY GRAMPY
My earliest memories date back to being a very young boy. Grampy would come over and bring one dozen glazed doughnuts from the bakery down the street from where he lived. None of us worried about unhealthy food back in the fifties. We enjoyed those doughnuts with a big glass of chocolate milk. Dad and Grampy would talk for hours. They let me listen and made me feel like I was part of the group. I mostly listened because a six year old doesn’t understand much about politics and religion. Once in a while they would ask me what I thought just to make me feel part of the conversation. I actually felt important. A six year old doesn’t know as much as he thinks he does when it comes to the ways of the world and answers to life’s questions. Since they asked my opinion I must know something. This made me feel pretty experienced and I knew I could add a lot to the conversation. Many times after I shared my wisdom, dad or Grampy would say, “Now you know we hadn’t considered it from that point of view.” I felt pretty special if I had only known what a point of view was. It didn’t matter because I was one of the guys. I was in the men’s club. I wanted to say, “Hey mom, look at me. I’m an adult.” But that wouldn’t be very cool. After all, if you’re really one of the guys you don’t need to announce it. Mom would look at me and smile. Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about. I was pretty big stuff.
Whenever Grampy would get ready to leave he would pick me up, give me a big hug, and say, “Grampy loves you.” I felt loved when he said this. It was more than just a grandfather loving his grandson. It was like I also felt that I was safe when I was with him. He would protect me from anyone or anything. I didn’t need to be afraid.
Grampy stood about six feet tall and weighed about two hundred and twenty pounds. That was a giant to a six year old. He wouldn’t have been any bigger if he were the Jolly Green Giant or Paul Bunyan. He had a booming laugh that was contagious. It made you want to laugh when you heard it.
Grampy was strong. I would stand on his shoes and he would walk around the room lifting me on his feet. He would hold my hands as I stepped on his shoes. Sometimes he would take big giant steps. My little legs could barely stretch far enough to keep up with him. He knew just how far to step so I didn’t fall off.
Sometimes he would sit in a chair and stick his leg out. I would sit on his ankle and he would move his leg up and down and he would bounce me around. He would shout, “Ride em’ cowboy!” He would try and see if I could hold on like a rodeo rider hanging on for dear life. Once again, he knew just how far to bounce me so I could stay on his leg. We did this over and over until Grampy got tired. I never thought about how strong his legs had to be to do this over and over again.
Kids never realize how many times parents and grandparents know our limitations and push us to the limit. Grampy knew just how big to take his steps and just how much to bounce me so I wouldn’t fall. This allowed me to grow as a child and meet the next challenge. It gave me confidence that that I would be successful again.
Grampy wore flannel shirts most of the time, except in the summer. I remember the flannel feeling so soft and warm when I would sit on his lap. He always kept thin cigars in his shirt pocket. I always made sure I didn’t crush his cigars when I sat in his lap. His shirt always smelled like those cigars. That smell always reminded me of happy times. His brand was “Swisher Sweets.” He was careful not to smoke too much around the kids. He knew it was unhealthy but passed it off by saying, “We all gotta go sometime.” I didn’t understand what that meant. I wondered why he was talking about going when we just got there. I would learn what this meant later in life.
He also smoked a pipe. When we would visit, you could smell the scent from his latest choice of tobacco outside of his front door. We knew if he was smoking cigars or a pipe by the aroma that wafted from the open windows and permeated the front porch before we ever rang the doorbell.
There were many autumn days we sat on his porch and watched the colorful leaves fall. Every autumn he would tell his favorite fall joke. He would ask me, “Bill, what would you call a season where all of the leaves change colors and fall off of the trees?” The first year he said this I said “Well, fall of course.” He replied, “No autumn.” Then he let out with his belly busting laugh. Every year after that, I played along just to see the joy he got from telling that joke and listening to that hearty laugh.
Grampy was a generous man. He would do anything to help someone in need. Once, in the middle of January, there was a serious blizzard. The snow was so deep a school bus slid off the side of the road at the corner of his street. He went to the bus and asked the driver if he needed help. It turned out the bus would have to be towed. The towing company had so many calls they could not be there for an hour and a half. Some of the kids were scared. The younger ones thought they might never get home. Grampy offered to take all of the kids into his house until they could get home. The driver thanked him for his hospitality. The driver could see the kids were getting cold so he accepted.
The driver and fifteen kids piled into Grampy’ house. I was on that bus. He said the phrase I heard so often throughout my life, “Don’t worry. Everything will be alright.”
He had just baked two apple pies so the kitchen smelled like cinnamon. Grampy asked if anyone wanted a piece of warm apple pie and a glass of milk. All of the kids shouted yes. The driver said, “We don’t want to put you out. You were nice enough to let us come in and get warm.” Grampy exclaimed, “Nonsense, I don’t know why I baked an extra pie. I guess I knew I would have company.” Grampy cut those pies up and everyone had a piece of pie and a glass of milk.
My grandfather was in heaven. He was smiling more than the kids. I saw the happiness it gave him to help others. One of his life’s lessons was help those you can and pray for those you can’t. He always felt he got more from the act of giving than from the thing he gave to people. I said, “Grampy you really helped us out today.” He questioned, “And who have you helped today?” The question caught me off guard. I’m a kid. Usually I was the one asking for help. I’d never really thought about being the giver. I was too stuffed with apple pie and milk to worry about a philosophical question like that. He told me I wasn’t too young to start helping others. His whole point was if you are aware of your surroundings you can always find someone to help. He explained, “Just saying a kind word and making someone feel good is a little gift from you to them. You’re making that person feel special. You don’t know what kind of day that person is having. Maybe your words will turn their whole day around.” This simple but loving attitude was one of the many reasons everyone loved Grampy. He gave love and was loved in return.
Grampy, and I always helped people whenever we had the chance. I like to think of how many people we helped over three generations. If each of us helped just one person a day be happier, if we lightened one person’s load a day, it would have a tremendous affect. Paying it forward became contagious.