Thank you Grandpa

In the kitchen, just at my eye level, hangs this portrait of my maternal grandparents. Look closely and see how uncannily Grandpa's eyes look into yours. His heart looks right out straight out at you and he was a great-hearted man. He would do anything he could for you. When your car broke down, (and I drove a series of the worst cars in the world when I was young), he would be the one to call to come and rescue you, any time, any place. The ride home might be scarier than a ten-mile roller coaster, because he had his own personal approach to the highway, but he was there when you needed him. My brothers and I grew up running tame in their house while my folks went to antique shows and such. I learned to ride a bike on the dirt road in front of the house, picked strawberries out of the lawn, and made huge armies of maple twirler horses under the silver maples across the street. Their home was as much home to me as anywhere else on earth.

He used to delight in taking grand kids out to his garage, where he had saved every bent nail, every interesting old bottle, every strange electronic gadget that he had ever come across. He was a worker, oh, what a worker. When he retired from a life of hard labor in the tanneries, he took on part time jobs to fill his time.
Four of them.
I think he worked more hours in retirement than he did when he kept regular employment. He built their snug and welcoming house from used lumber and straightened nails. After he and grandma passed on I used to drive down their street just to go past it and remember. It broke my heart when the neighbors bought it and tore it down.

He still found time to grow rhubarb and currants and to climb up ladders when he should have been in his rocking chair.
Had to change the storm windows you know.
And he hated to ask.
The boss didn't get to enjoy the wonders of grandparents, due to early deaths and lasting feuding in his family...so he shared mine. They just loved him and he them. We used to take them fruit and cuts of veal that we had raised and stay on their porch and talk for hours. Although Grandpa was never one to just sit around, they would cut their Sunday travels short if they thought we would be stopping by.

He died when Liz was a baby. She is the only one of the kids to have had the chance to know him, but she got to sit on his knee like I did as a toddler and "ride horsey" to you-pa-de-ah-de-ah-dah, his grandbaby bouncing song. I don't think she remembers but I do. Alan may not have known him, but he got his long bony legs in the genetic lottery and my youngest baby brother inherited his kindness and doing for others mind set. They both remind me so much of him in so many ways....

Anyhow, every day when I fix my coffee, he and grandma are right there between the stove and the microwave. He is always staring right into my eyes, willing me to hang in there for another day. To get by somehow. And every day I talk to him in my mind, thanking him for the daily encouragement and the endless support when I was young and needed it so much.

Today as I stirred my Tasters Choice and thought back at him, it came to me, yes, Grandpa, you are right. You and Grandma and my other grandparents, whose portrait hangs on the other side of the stove, came through worse than we are facing now. The Great Depression, war that killed your friends and family and shook the foundations of the world, deprivations and deaths that would probably stop most folks today dead in their tracks. And yet, right to the end of your days, your life was one of cheerful service and freely-given love. You knew how to be happy with small things and to share what you had with others. Thanks for being there for me when I was young and silly and for still holding me up today. Just thanks.