It was one year ago that I was teaching grammar to my first period students when I received an email from Jeff that said, "Don't panic and stay calm, but I need you to know your grandpa just passed away." It was a few days later that my courage was tested again when I gave the eulogy at Grandpa's funeral. It seems like a good time to print that eulogy.
Grandpa, Our Gentle Gardener
Well, I know one thing. Grandpa would be happy that we have once again made it--for the most part, at least--past the heat of the hot Texas summer. As I walked out of school on Thursday I noticed--and I don't usually notice--that the weather had cooled down some in North Texas. And then, on the phone a few hours later, I was surprised to hear Janell comment on the fact that September had arrived, and she just knew Grandpa would have been ready for the season to start changing. We all know Grandpa--or Papa, as all the other kids called him--loved a good fall garden, and perhaps the idea that Janell and I both tuned in to the weather could be due in part to our heightened sensitivities as we began to process the inevitable fact among us.
Aunt Kathy says Grandpa loved the Farmer's Almanac, and to that I'd say Grandpa was the Farmer's Almanac. He loved to talk about the weather, not as people use it to fill idle conversation, but because he was so aware of the weather--and its effects on the important things in life: when to plant the garden, when to water the lawn, when to go fishing, when to sit outside on the deck. And of course he had a sense of humor about the weather, too. When Aunt Thelma asked him what it meant when there was not a cloud in the sky, Grandpa's astute suggestion was that "it means it's not going to rain."
It's no surprise, then, that Grandpa would be happy about the more gentle weather we are beginning to have around here. Gentler weather is not the only thing from which Grandpa seemed to gain immense satisfaction. Grandpa was gentle in everything he did and said, from his good advice to his tender--albeit rare--reprimands of us grandkids. Colter says he loved Grandpa's "gentle guiding voice and stories," and it's the sort of meek and mild tendencies of Grandpa's that make me think of the moderation we busy young adult grandchildren could be ever so wise to take into our own lives. Grandpa liked his moderate weather; he also liked to eat just the right amount of catfish, get just the right amount of sleep, learn just the right amount of new things, watch just the right amount of Grandma's daytime "stories," and have just the right amount of fun. Colter and Zach both remember fishing with "Papa," and if the stories they and my dad tell are only a portion of the great times Grandpa had while fishing, then it's no doubt that Grandpa also liked to do just the right amount of fishing.
I never saw my grandpa get overly excited about anything, but Zach remembers a time in his senior year of high school when he went to mow Grandpa's lawn and opened the shed to find a stray cat. Zach says when he told Grandpa the cat bolted out. In Zach's words, "Papa jumped back three feet and yelled, 'Hot Damn!' I've never seen him move so fast in my life." Uncle Bob agrees that in thirty years he only heard Grandpa say three bad words. We all agree that if Grandpa said a bad word it was special.
Megan remembers Grandpa as a gentle teacher, and she remembers the times she was allowed in his workshop to play and watch him. Quite the adventurous one, that Megan, she remembers the time she accidentally hot glued her long blond hair to her face. Grandpa didn't seem to mind that Megan had used an entire stick of his Craftsman hot glue to make a "glue puddle" on one of his boards, and she remembers that he didn't yell as he cleaned up her mess--or her slightly burned face. There, of course, was also the time Megan climbed up in a tree that was full of fire ants, and, when she literally had ants in her pants, Grandpa, with the help of Grandma, made sure those ants never bothered any of us again. He also taught us how to watch out and be careful. He didn't yell at me when I decided to shimmy down into the narrow cardboard box that once housed a skinny card table, even when I attempted the feat hanging off the back of his pickup that was parked in the carport--on a steep incline, and even after the doctor proclaimed that it was, indeed, a concussion. I think Grandpa taught us all to play Checkers, but I don't think he ever let any of us beat him. Isn't that what being a good teacher is all about?
Speaking of teaching, I remember the day I told Grandpa I had received my first teaching job. He looked at me, and as simply as can be, said, "You're finally going to be a teacher." This statement, one of the characteristic "one-liners" that is "soooo Grandpa," made me feel prouder of my decision to teach than of anything I had ever decided in life. Grandpa knew something, apparently, that I didn't know, and, with a simple independent clause, was able to show me he was proud. Megan and I both became school teachers, and we are excited that Janell and Zach are following us into the field. William, too, says he hasn't ruled out the idea of teaching. What are the odds that one family can produce four--or possibly five--teachers? Our grandparents were committed to making the world a better place, that's for sure. I was always so proud to go to the Girl Scout hut and see that my grandpa had recently mowed the lawn. The concern for others was always present in our grandparents' house, and I believe Grandpa's modeling of compassion rubbed off on us all.
For example, Colter says Grandpa taught him to take his time and have patience, a trait he has no doubt found helpful in raising his own beautiful son, Weston. This trait was obviously passed from our grandfather to his son, too, for Megan and I never seemed to hear the end of our own dad's saying, "All roads will get you there, but some take a little longer," every time we complained that Dad was taking the "long way" home from church. My dad, whom I have found to be among the most patient people on the planet, obviously learned this patience from our grandfather. I'm sure all of us would agree that Grandpa's patience was among his many virtues. William says he learned through his mom to always be happy with what he had, and he is convinced that this virtue, also, is one Aunt Thelma learned from Grandpa. Janell says that Grandpa taught her how to listen, too, and I think we would all agree that Grandpa was one of the rare people in the world who liked listening better than hearing the sound of his own voice. We would all also agree, I'm sure, that Grandpa didn't say much, but when he did say something it really meant something.
My husband Jeff and I have lived in North Texas for the past six years, and Jeff, unfortunately, has only had the chance to get to know Grandpa when he hasn't felt his best. We were so excited when we went to William's high school graduation in Portland and saw Grandpa had made the trip. Jeff was assigned the task of pushing Grandpa in the wheelchair Aunt Thelma had borrowed from the school, and, despite the repeated questions of "Are you okay, Grandpa?" Grandpa didn't say a word to Jeff the entire evening. That is, until it was time for Grandpa to exit the chair, upon which he gallantly, and casually, said to Jeff, "THANKS FOR SHOVING ME AROUND, JEFF." We can all agree, I think, that Grandpa was a man who could never really be shoved around. A man of few words. The strong and silent type. Perhaps Megan's boyfriend Kelly illustrated it best when he said, "He never said that much to me, but I sure feel like I knew him."
And sometimes Grandpa could say more than enough with just one word. When William came downstairs with a Mohawk haircut after his high school graduation party, for example, Grandpa's feelings about the new 'do were all over his face. He politely--but firmly--refused to take a picture with William, saying his classic "nuh-uh" when Aunt Thelma asked him if he wanted a picture. Grandpa always seemed to enjoy a good trip to the barber shop, and William sums it up nicely when he says he remembers Grandpa's "hair, hat, and shoes"--Grandpa always seemed to have neatly combed hair, perfectly clean hats, and his famous blue "slip-on" shoes. And what big shoes those are to fill.
Growing up, we all loved to go down to Grandpa's garden, because it meant fun and adventure, whether it was chasing "lightning bugs," making mud pies, looking for treasure with Grandpa's metal detector, or simply running around the perimeter of the garden while Grandpa and Grandma picked their various vegetables. To borrow one of Colt's memories, they say a man who has a successful garden is a man who believes in a tomorrow. If this is true, and I believe with all my heart that it is, then Grandpa is up there plowing, raking, and preparing a bountiful garden. He's gardening with Grandma now, and if the life he led here on Earth is any indication, then man, are we in for a beautiful tomorrow.
September 6, 2008
