Friday, September 16, 2016

My Grandad

This isn't an ordinary post. Yes, my grandfather was quirky, but that's not why I share this. This summer marks four years since he passed away. I think of him often and wanted too pass on the tidbits of knowledge he gave me. This is, slightly altered, the talk I gave at his funeral. He requested that it not be a gloomy funeral.  I did my best.




Lessons my Grandad taught me

                I moved in with my grandparents when I was eighteen. I was a smart-alecky somewhat awkward teenager ready to be on my own. You should know that up until this point I was a little bit scared of my grandad.  But beneath his somewhat stern exterior he is a sweet, mild tempered man, who is something of a tease. Luckily for me, I can give as good as I get when it comes to teasing.  I  thought I knew just about everything. And like the cocky teenager I was, I would remind them often how lucky they were to have such a fantastic granddaughter living with them.  It didn't take me too long to realize that I was the lucky one. Lucky that they loved me, fed me and worried about me when I stayed out too late. My grandpa even drove around looking for me when I wasn't home on time. Instead of asserting my independence by moving out, I had simply traded one set of parents for another.  With love and patience, my two grandparents set about teaching me the things I needed to know to get along in the world.  I'd like to share a few of the things I learned from my Grandad with you. 

                1.  How to be a good sport.  Every night we would play a game of Mah-jongg on the computer against each other.  It is a Japanese tile game where you match tiles to remove them from the board until they are cleared away (meaning you beat it) or you are stuck.  It takes a little bit of logic and a little bit of luck.  We would each play the same board, one after another and write down the number of tiles remaining.  It was a lively competition.  The first time I beat it I came out of the room doing a victory dance and chanting that I beat the game.  My grandparents hadn't played yet, and my grandad said something like, "oh well now it's no fun because we have to go in there knowing we can't beat you."  I smiled smugly and went on dancing all the way to bed.  The next night my grandad played first, when he came out of the room he was hanging his head dejectedly all the way to his bedroom.  I said something very gracious like, "Ha! It looks like another win for me."  And I went to take my turn.  When I turned the screen on there was a large banner that read, "Congratulations, Dick Say, you have won the game!"  With fireworks in the background.  Grandad poked his head in the door and said, "Gotcha!"

                2.  How to swear like a sailor.  One day, not long after I moved in, Grandad was replacing the patio doors.  It was early in the morning, and I was in the kitchen, he was working on the patio.  Through the window I saw him carrying a heavy glass door and it slipped and landed right on his foot.  From the look on his face it was pretty painful.  I knew he had been in the Navy and since he didn't know anyone was watching I braced myself for a string of obscenities.  What I heard was this: "Well what in the sam hill!  Dad gummit!"  I teased him for his foul language for the next 10 years.

                3.  How to cure common ailments with household items.  Now, he taught me all the typical remedies for things, like if I had a sore throat he would make me gargle salt water, or drink a hot mixture of squeezed lemons and honey, which I vastly preferred to the salt water.  And then there were the more unusual remedies.  Like the time I came home from work to find them watching tv.  Not unusual.  I think the show they were watching was Walker Texas Ranger.  Also not unusual.  What was unusual was that my grandpa was watching it while sitting in his chair with a brown paper bag over his head.  It had two holes cut out for the eyes.  They were both acting as if this was a perfectly normal way to behave.  At first I thought maybe they were playing a joke on me.  But after a few minutes decided that wasn't it.  Finally I said, while trying to suppress my giggles, "Grandad, what on earth are you doing?"  Slowly, the brown paper bag turned to look at me.   "Laugh all you like," it said, " this is the only way to cure the hiccups."  So now you know.

                4.  How to cook.  After a while they decided that I needed to start earning my keep and so it was determined I would cook dinner once a week.  They would gamely try my experiments while I became more confident in the kitchen.  I don't know how much I improved, but with my grandad's help there were a few things I perfected.  For instance, I can whip up a batch of lumpy gravy every single time.

                5.  What to look for in a husband.  Now, it was apparent pretty early on that my grandparents were eager for me to find a husband.  I'm not sure if this was because they wanted me to be genuinely, eternally happy or if they were just trying to get rid of me, but I think it was probably a little of both.  Naturally, a perfect husband is as much like grandpa as possible.  According to my gramme, he swept her off her feet on their first date because he drove up in a fancy car wearing his sailor's cap and she thought he was, as she puts it, "handsome, rich and debonair."  Certainly, at over six foot with dark hair and a contagious smile, my grandad was handsome.  Despite this, I only heard him comment on his physical appearance twice.  Once he came home and sort of strutted into the room and cleared his throat.  "Notice anything different?" He asked.  After intense scrutiny, I was still drawing a blank.  Then he said, "I got my hairs cut.  Both of them."  The other was a few years ago when I was out visiting him he told me the physical therapist had him going to the gym.  "See?  I have a muscle." "Just the one?" I teased.  "Yep."  Not only handsome but a humble man as well.  A rare combination.   Rich.  To my knowledge my grandad has never been wealthy.  But he lived a rich life, full of family, friends, travel and love.  And debonair, my favorite.  No one could argue that my grandpa didn't know how to treat a lady.  In the years I lived with them, I never once heard him raise his voice to my grandmother.  They would often hold hands, and sometimes steal kisses, although he would always act properly embarrassed if I walked in the room during a kiss on the cheek.  He would exclaim, "oops, she caught us!" and run back to his chair.  When I came to see him after the heart attack, he held my sweet gramme's hand, raised his voice and said, "I want you all to know, I love this woman with all my heart."  If that isn't debonair, then I don't know what is.  Fifty some years later and he was still trying to sweep her off her feet.  Handsome, rich and debonair to be sure.  With such a high standard set for me it is little wonder I had a hard time finding someone who would measure up.

                6.  How to catch a man.  As the years passed the situation became more desperate.  I was about to graduate BYU unmarried.  I had received advice from both my grandparents about what I should do about it. My biggest problem, according to them, was that I would not stop wearing pajamas in public.  My grandad often got after me about it.  One day he tried a different tactic.  "You know, Marion, you should wear more skirts," he said.  "Why would I want to do that?"  I asked.  "Because," he said, "I don't care how old I get, or how much you think times have changed since I was young....I know this is still true, a man likes to see a little bit of leg."  As you can imagine, I was shocked.  I turned to my gramme for some support.  “Did you hear that?” I said.  “Sure,” she replied, “I know it.  Why do you think I liked to play tennis?  So I could wear those short little tennis skirts.”  Now I was downright scandalized.  I had no idea she was such a flirt.  I shared this story with my husband a year or so after we were married.  He looked at me and said seriously,  "Marion, your grandfather is a wise, wise man."  Despite this sound advice, I didn't get married or even engaged while I lived with them.  Now just because they wanted me married, didn't mean they approved of every man that came along.  And they let me know it when they didn't.  It goes without saying that my grandad was a little protective of me.  So, naturally, when a strange man called a few months after I moved away asking for my phone number, my grandad gave it to him without a moment's hesitation.  Luckily for grandad, and for me, I married that strange man about eight months later.  His recklessness with my personal information has brought me the greatest happiness of my life.

                I have been blessed to have many good men in my life.  Men of strength and kindness, men of service and integrity.  Certainly my Grandad, is one of these good men.  I would even say that he is the best man that I know.   Maybe not the best Mah-jongg player.  But definitely an example to all who knew him of kindness, humility, service and integrity.  I love you Grandad.   We love you.  We always will.

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