(Eulogy delivered this Thursday at Grandpa's funeral -- October 21, 1912 - October 25, 2008)
I am speaking today because I think that Grandpa would want me to. I was also pretty sure that if I didn’t, Grandpa would be annoyed with me if I didn't. What Grandpa kept forgetting is that I am a creative writer – which means that I write what I feel and not necessarily what I see. But upon further reflection, maybe that’s exactly why he’s always wanted me tell his story.
I am speaking today as my Grandpa’s favorite granddaughter, as he used to call me. I had to share that title and place of honor in later years with my neice Kolbyn, but there it was, just the same. For my entire childhood I was Grandpa’s buddy, and he was my pal.
My fondest memories of Grandpa are of spending summers and after school sitting with him and Uncle Paul in the door of Grandpa’s backyard woodshop and garage. We would sit there, Uncle Paul and Grandpa on lawn chairs and me on a white, upside-down 5-gallon bucket, and we would play 4-point pitch. Our card table was usually some small table that Grandpa had made out of scrap wood and old cabinet doors. We were there for hours, dealing, bidding, shooting the moon, laughing and taking turns impressing each other with our mutual skill, wit, and turns of phrase.
Now, here is the funny thing about memories. I’m pretty sure that I made up the part about the bucket. I’m also pretty sure that they graciously let me win several times. And realistically, we probably only played for an actual 30 minutes or so. But what I am positive about is how much I loved hanging out with my Grandpa on those afternoons and how much I loved soaking in his laughter, his spirit and his energy whenever I was around him.
Grandpa laughed with his eyes and his shoulders. His spirit was too big for indoors. It belonged outdoors – fishing, playing cards, working horses, camping and trading. And I was lucky enough to be allowed inside – lucky enough to share with that sparkle in his eyes. And it was the sparkle that told you more about who he was and what he was about than his mouth ever did.
Not that he kept his mouth idle by any means. He was a man who loved a good discussion. There is a saying that when two or more people agree on something, one of them is not necessary. Well, Grandpa was definitely necessary. He loved taking the other side of things. In fact, sometimes I think that he said he was a Democrat because the majority of Kansans are Republicans.
Discussing is what Grandpa and I did the most. He had plenty of opinions and often shared them. But, for me, the good thing about Grandpa was that he allowed me to have my opinions too – without judgment. I knew somehow that we were sharing opinions as equals. I also knew that he respected and listened to mine just as much as I respected and listened to his. He was my sounding board. He was my example.
Grandpa valued hard work, strength of character, and intelligence tempered with common sense. He admired those qualities when he saw them in others. He loved strong, capable women who are maybe just a little saucy. Take a look at who he married! When we were talking to Pastor Debbie, I told Grandma that Grandpa thought the world of her. Without blinking an eye, she leaned over to Pastor Debbie and said, “Well, he should have!”
My family likes to tell me that I take after Grandpa. I think when they tell me that, they are trying to tell me in a nice way that I’m just a little bit stubborn. And, the fact that I’m standing here talking right now sort of proves that. But the thing about being stubborn is learning when to give and when to stick. My Grandpa never gave about the place that God had in his life. My Grandpa never gave when it came to the importance of family. My Grandpa never gave when it came to the worth and dignity of people.
Some call it stubborn – I call it conviction. Grandpa didn’t do anything because that’s the way everyone was doing it. He preferred a handshake and a promise to lawyers and paper. He made up his own mind about what was right or wrong to do and then he did it. He wasn’t one to wait around for consensus. He was self-made and fiercely independent to the last.
I didn’t get to say goodbye to Grandpa face to face. But, you know, I’m not too bothered by that. Because with Grandpa and I, it wasn’t about “Hello” and “Goodbye.” With Grandpa, it was about “I Love You”, continuing a conversation, and “See You Later.”
