Grandpa! Your birthday was yesterday and though I did not write to you on the day,
I thought of you.
You would be about 145 now….and I last saw you when you were 95.
Are you back yet?
Are you hiding in one of the grand children?
In the days that you inhabited the earth, it was the modus operandi to keep one’s cards close to one’s chest. I have heard stories about you.
I heard that you were lightening bolt lovestruck at the moment that you first laid eyes on Grandma, while she was racing a horse cart down the middle of the street, challenging all of the boys, red hair flying. You were fourteen.
I heard how you dropped out of school when you were twelve so that you could get a job, as a custodian at Standard Oil of New Jersey and help support the family.
I heard how the train engineer would set his clock by you, as you were always two minutes to the second early on the train platform, to ride into the city to work.
I heard how you rose to head of exports, as a VP, of Standard Oil, because you were smart and fair and everyone trusted you and you had your eyes on the big scene.
I heard how you held your ground and refused to sell oil to Germany right before WW2 and how you were fired for this, but gracefully turned your attention to your home and your love and your ten children.
I see you sitting at your desk in the living room..facing out to the room…a sweet smelling pipe in your mouth and a bowl of licorice in a cut glass bowl on the desk in front of you, always dressed in a three piece suit with a gold watch chain looping from your vest pocket into another little pocket where the watch surely lived.
I hear your enthusiastic boisterously warm “Hi Francie Girl! How are you?” Greeting, followed by a warm and very quick hug.
I see you in the kitchen, a white apron on over your suit, leaning into the oven and pulling out a beautiful roast.
I see you sitting at the head of the dining room table, fine linen and china, always, and through the formality and robust chatty, happy engagement all ‘round, a feeling of WHAT A GLORIOUS FAMILY.
I see you in the rose garden pruning and smiling.
I see you in the vegetable garden, with your straw hat on, while you lean over to pick up a bucket of peas that you then carry over to us..as we wait in the covered swing, laps open and ready to shell.
I am deeply, throbbingly grateful to you for all that you are and for all that you bestowed on us, through yourself and through Dad and now I can pass on to the young ones.
Integrity, truth, tangible joie de vive, courage, generous intelligence and a love of beauty and elegance.
Happy Birthday Grandpa, and I look forward to seeing you again one day.