Many
of my family members have been writing about memories of Grandaddy. It’s
not surprising, given that Grandaddy loved writing so much and he passed that
love along to his children, grandchildren and many others. It’s been both
beautiful and sometimes difficult to read all these memories (only difficult
because it makes me miss him more). I feel unusually blessed though.
I’m the oldest grandchild and had the privilege of knowing him for
35.5 years. I also lived with him and Mima for the last 18 months, a deep
and wonderful blessing I will thank heaven for the rest of my life.
Inspired
by the memories shared by other family members and because I find writing
cathartic, I want to “put pen to paper” (or the modern digital equivalent)
and share some of my most poignant memories. Perhaps these are
moments in time that would seem unimportant to the outside
observer. Nothing that will ever be recorded in the history books or
glamorized on the silver screen. In some cases, they may not even be
remembered by anyone besides myself. However insignificant they might
appear to others, they are times that come readily to mind. They are
times experienced and moments shared that cemented into my consciousness, my very
being, that I had a Grandaddy — and a Mima — who loved me
very much.
***
I
recall a time Lance and I went to the grocery store with Grandaddy. I
don’t remember which store, but I do remember that unlike today’s grocery
stores which keep milk and dairy products refrigerated behind glass doors,
this store had a refrigerated room that you had to walk into in order to
find a gallon of milk, a cup of yogurt, or whatever. I always hated that
room. Adults never seemed fazed by the temperature and took an
inexplicably long time to find things. Were the store employees always
moving the milk around every day so that each label had to be read in detail
before feeling confident you were buying Grade-A pasteurized milk?
I’m sure that adults were not idling in this room but as a skinny
little kid with no insulation on my bones, it felt like it took forever.
On
the visit in question, we survived the milk room and were out in
the adequately heated part of the store — specifically the candy
isle. Maybe because of the longing looks on our face (or more likely,
because he understood the things little boys care about), Grandaddy bought us
each a pound bag of Skittles. A pound! Lance and I were, of
course, elated but perhaps a little shocked too. We got it into our heads
that we needed to repay this extravagance so we left a few dollars and a
"Thank You" note in his bedroom. The next time we were in Orem
Granddaddy pulled us aside, lovingly returned the money and told us in no
uncertain terms that sometimes a Granddaddy gets to spoil his grandchildren.
***
Another
sweet memory was the few hours I spent with Granddaddy in Mesa,
Arizona. I had made the drive to Arizona with Mima and
Granddaddy and were staying with Karen and her family. One
afternoon Grandaddy asked me if I wanted to get out of the house and take a
drive. We spent the next several hours driving to sites around the
Mesa area. Grandaddy showed me an old barn where he had visited as
a boy. He showed me several other sites that are still in existence that
were part of his boyhood and part of our families' history. As a capstone
to this trip down memory lane, he took me to the house, within a stone-throw of
the Mesa temple, where he had been born — not just the house where his
family was living when he was born, but the actual house he had been
born in (they didn’t go to the hospital for some reason…or maybe there was
wasn’t a hospital at that time…I don’t know).
***
Granddaddy
was a scholar. Not just of the Spanish language (though he was certainly
a scholar of that) but of many things. On another drive to and from Mesa
(or maybe the same one...I can’t remember) we talked about literature and his
favorite poems and finally of Shakespeare. I asked him about Macbeth, The
Taming of the Shrew, The Comedy of Errors, The Merchant of Venice, Othello,
Titus Andronicus, Twelfth Night…and so on. He spoke with clarity and
his characteristic articulateness. He conversed about the plots and
themes. He quoted from them from memory (in his “quoting” voice…you
know the one). Sorry other English teachers, the best Shakespeare
scholar on campus had his office in the Spanish department.
***
I
remember mom telling me that it was horrible playing Scrabble or the Vocabulary
Game with Granddaddy. He knew every word there was! He was
also a good editor. For years, I sent every major school paper I wrote
though the gauntlet of Granddaddy. It would come back with red pencil all
over it! The most important paper I probably ever wrote (the personal essay
for medical school application) came back so marked up that
I scrapped the whole thing and started over. I’m assuming the
re-write was better because I got in. Thanks Granddaddy — I love my
job!
***
Granddaddy
once told me that he wrote some of his best poetry while in Sacrament meeting.
Either because the speaker was inspiring and the spirit strong or because
he was deathly board and seeking mental escape — either would do.
He would often share his poetry. And only Granddaddy could
read those poems exactly the right way. He had a poetry voice (quite
similar to his “quoting voice”). The two poems that stick in my mind
were the one about the sliver and the pocket knife and the one that mentioned
Moses and the burning bush (he had to explain that one to me after reading it.
The explanation was beautiful).
***
Others
have already touched on other endearing memories which I shared as
well — his affection for opera music and his tendency to sing it
often (strangely his opera voice was similar to both his quoting voice and his
poetry voice), his “scrapbook” enchilada sauce made from anything he
found in the fridge, his dislike of “Put Your Shoulder to the Wheel”. I
loved all these and so much more.
My
sweet wife hit the nail on the head and I’ll finish this by quoting her.
"Sometimes,
very rarely, you meet someone who's influence and goodness changes every person
who is fortunate enough to come in contact with him. A life done right.
Generations to come will continue to be blessed by his example. I
will be eternally greatful for him. I can only imagine his homecoming in
Heaven...We love and miss you Granddaddy. Well done, and most of all,
thank you”.
Until
we meet again, Granddaddy...
