My Grandad and I

My Grandad and I--

My grandad once told me I could talk to a fence post.  He called me his radio and would give me pennies to stop the chatter.  We were very close, my grandad and I.  I miss him.

He was a self-made man.  He grew up in the hill country of northern Arkansas.  I think he must have been blessed with vision beyond his years.  He possessed an entrepreneurial spirit, and he put that spirit to use from a very early age.

The first businesses he owned were a wholesale grocery store and a sawmill.  When World War II began, he and my grandmother moved to Washington state where he purchased another sawmill.  Add a machine shop to his businesses.

At some point after the war he moved from Washington  to Oregon where he purchased another sawmill.  Gran also loved new adventures.  She purchased a dress shop.  They were busy day and night.  While in that southern Oregon town, my grandad became interested in bowling.  So interested that he actually bowled a couple of perfect games.  He was always looking forward.  And because of that, he sold the businesses and moved to the last place he would live.

His interest in bowling took him on his next adventure.  They purchased two bowling alleys.  In two different towns.  He would drive each day to both to be sure they were running well.  One summer they flew me from Arkansas to Oregon to spend time with them.  During that trip he taught me how to do the bookkeeping for both alleys.  I loved having that responsibility.  He trusted me.  It was one of those magical times of my life.

One of the fondest memories I have of that trip came at the end.  It was time for me to return home as school was about to begin.  However, there was a challenge.  The opening of the Oregon State Fair and the opening of school happened at the same time.  I had no idea that he had made up his mind that we would go to the fair together even though I would miss the first week of school.  And so go to the fair we did.  We had a joyous time.  And I have such sweet memories.

Years later one of my sisters and I would ride a bus from Arkansas to Oregon to spend time with them. By this time I had completed college and taught for one semester.  It was during breakfast one morning that he asked me about a car.  I told him I would love to have a car but couldn't afford one.  He said he had been thinking about that.  He had decided to sell me his little car.  My grandmother was too shocked to say anything for a bit.  When she regained her wits, she said there was no way I could drive that car all the way across country.

Even thought she did not approve, he sold me that little blue car.  He took it to a garage and made sure everything was perfect.  And on the appointed day my sister, who was 16, and I started our drive from Oregon down through California and across country to Arkansas.  It was quite an adventure.  No cell phones.  No GPS.  Only a map.  When we stopped for the night, I called to let them know where we were. The phone hardly rang before it was picked up.  They were anxious to know we were ok.

What he gave me was the greatest gift.  He gave me the gift of confidence.  He believed I could do anything I set my heart to do.  He believed I was smart enough to be a success.  He loved me.  And he loved my husband when we moved to Oregon during the first year of our marriage.  By that time he was not well.  He still owned the two bowling alleys, and we spent many happy hours bowling with them.

My husband and I were known for taking trips with only a few dollars in our pockets.  This was a cause for alarm for my grandmother.  She would tell him to give us money just in case we needed it.  I would write a check to him, and he would give me cash--just in case.  When he died, one of those checks was still in his wallet.

Everyone needs someone like my grandad.  Someone who loves unconditionally.  Someone who encourages.  Someone who makes memories happen.  Certainly he was not a perfect man, but he was a perfect grandad.

This past week I have driven past those two bowling alleys.  I have driven the streets and roads they drove so many years ago.  I can almost feel their presence in the car beside me.   She who loved to laugh.  He who was quiet.  She with the twinkle in her eye.  He with a shy smile.

Sometimes you simply have to walk down memory lane.