Gramps

My father's father-- or Gramps, as we lovingly call him-- is my favorite kind of person.  He was himself.  No show or misguidance for the sake of impressing others-- just Gramps.  He was, at times, a little rough around the edges, being the sailor and railroad man that he was.  For those of us who really knew him, though, he was about as genuinely loving as a person can be.  It's been a little over five years since he's passed, but this time of year always brings his memory to the foreground of my thoughts.

You see, I was born on Gramp's birthday.  With our birthday just around the corner, it's hard not to reminisce about him and what he meant-- and means-- to me.  He always said that I was his best birthday present, and I believe that he wasn't fabricating that.  He was truly happy that I was born, and even happier that we'd be celebrating our birthdays together from that time forward.  When I turned 9, our birthday fell on a Sunday.  In order to celebrate, Gramps bought me the most elaborate, beautiful pink corsage he could find (because he knew I'd be wearing a pink dress) and bought himself a matching boutonniere.  We wore them to church.  Whenever anyone would ask him why we decided to dress so formally for church, he would beam and say, "Because my granddaughter and I are celebrating our birthday."

I'm still getting used to this whole "birthday by myself" concept.  I wonder how others get by without a birthday buddy, because it's sure hard for me.  Regardless, I am so grateful for the birthdays I shared with that man.  In order to honor him this year, I thought it would be nice to maybe describe some of the gifts-- or life lessons-- which he taught me during his time on Earth.

• Appreciate beauty.  Gramps had quite the artistic eye, a talent he has passed on to many of his posterity.  While Gramps was not always the most patient man, he could somehow sit for hours sketching with his pencil or charcoal.  He always appreciated a beautiful piece of art.  A box of his old art supplies sits in one of my closets now, and it's still used-- on occasion-- to create works intended to make the world a bit more beautiful.
• Don't let circumstance define you.  Gramps loved his mother very much, but never had a lot to say of his father.  Nothing good anyway.  Even though I never knew my great-grandfather, I'll respect him enough to not go into detail.  What I will mention is that Gramps, statistically, should have ended up a man very similar to the man his father was.  Instead, he chose another path-- a better one.  He was not content to pass onto others what was unfairly given to him.  He rose above the circumstance.
• Be aware of others' needs.  There are too many stories to share here of Gramps being aware of others.  Through his observance of others and their needs, Gramps not only saved a few hearts from breaking or a few tears from falling-- he also saved a few lives that needed saving.  In a very literal way.
• Appearances aren't as important as character.  As mentioned above, Gramps was a rough-and-tumble kind of guy, born and raised in Wyoming.  He knew how to work hard and humbly provide for a family.  He never cared much about looking good.  He cared about being good.  To Gramps, it didn't matter if a person were a wealthy city-slicker passing through town or a poor, farming family with unkempt clothes:  Gramps would take them all as they were and respect them for it.  It was their conduct and kindness that determined his thoughts of them.
• Music and Jesus.  Gramps always used to tell us that it was his goal to make sure his posterity loved two things-- music and the Gospel of Jesus Christ.  Without a doubt, Gramps is a major contributing factor in my ability to sing and play instruments.  Without a doubt, he's also a major contributing factor in my own faithfulness in following the teachings of Jesus Christ. 
• Be curious.  Gramps was always tinkering with stuff.  If he ever had a question about something, he'd either research (you know, call up the experts) or take stuff apart.  I recall many times going to visit Gramies and Gramps, only to find Gramps huddled over something on the kitchen table.  Wires, wood, plastic-- I never knew what it was he was doing, but it looked important.  He told me once that he felt over-educated, that it was unnecessary for one, such as himself, to know so many things.  He said it with a chuckle, and then told me, with a twinkle in his eye, to make sure that I never get too smart.
• Prayer works.  During WWII, Gramps served in the NAVY on the ship Wichita.  (Here's a link if you would like to know more about his ship: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/USS_Wichita_(CA-45)  Everyday aboard the ship, Gramps would go to the tip of the bow and say a prayer for the ship's safety and everyone's safe return home.  During his time aboard, the ship and its crew went through hell-- truly, it did.  It fought in many naval battles that should have left it sunk, including a battle in which the Wichita was hit by a torpedo which, miraculously, failed to detonate.  In all that time, only one sailor lost his life aboard the Wichita.  Some might believe that it's coincidence and luck that got my Gramps and the crew out of the war alive.  I like to think that the prayers of a young sailor have something to do with it.
• Decide what you stand for, and never give in once you've decided.  Aboard the Wichita, Gramps was confronted with many conflicts of lifestyle.  One of those had a great deal to do with alcohol.  Maybe I'm making it up (although I really don't think that I am), but I recall a story of Gramps getting confronted by one of the "meanest, nastiest sailors on the whole ship."  Knowing that my Gramps was a Mormon, and, therefore, didn't drink, this sailor confronted my grandfather and told him that the choice was-- essentially-- drink this alcohol, or all of us are going to beat you up.  Without hesitation, Gramps said something to the effect of, "Well, get on with beating me up then, because there's no way in h*** that I'm going to drink."  Impressed with his convictions, the sailors left him alone after that.
• True love is never forgotten.  Toward the end of his life, Gramps couldn't remember a lot of things, but one thing he never forgot:  The first time he saw Gramies.  He could recall how she had her hair, what she was wearing, and where she was sitting in the chapel-- "smack dab in front of [him]."  That was his favorite story to tell, and he never forgot it.
• You don't need a reason to be kind.  When I was a junior in high school, it was a favorite pastime of mine to go to the mall and try on clothes.  (Don't ask why.  I'm a girl, or something, OK?)  During one of my trips to Dillard's I fell in love with a beautiful, princess cut prom dress.  It looked great on me too, as though it had been patterned to belong to me forever and ever.  Unfortunately, it was not on sale and triple-digit too expensive-- and wasn't going to go on sale any time soon.  I reluctantly put the dress back on its rack, but I often frequented the store just to see if it was still there, always crossing my fingers that it would be so that I could, at least, try it on one more time.  As fate would have it, I was trying the dress on again one weekend (to show my sister, I think).  When I came out of the dressing room, I saw Gramies and Gramps walking through the store.  I waved to them, and they came over.  They thought the dress was beautiful and asked if I was planning on buying it for the upcoming prom.  I explained that it was a bit too pricey for me.  Without further conversation, Gramps was insisting that he and Gramies buy the dress for me.  They did.  No reason, just because they loved me.  I don't think I ever truly expressed how thankful I was for that gesture.
• Don't get caught up on trying to be perfect.  Just do your best.  Rough around the edges is right.  Something I've definitely inherited from Gramps is his ability to swear at inanimate objects when they don't work like they're supposed to, or when I do something stupid that, in turn, makes an object do something stupid.  Exhibit A:  piece of s*** lawnmower, or Exhibit B:  d*** microwave.  When I got my learner's permit, Gramps offered to take me driving so that he could teach me how to swear at the other drivers.  Check and check!  I remember another time in Church when Gramps was talking loud enough that the people five pews in front of us could hear him.  My mom passed him a kindly written note asking him to pipe down.  He scribbled something and passed the note back to my mom.  It said, "So excommunicate me then."  No, he wasn't perfect, but perfect enough.
• Take care of your family, especially the little ones.  From the time that my siblings and I were young, all the way to the end of his life, Gramps fiercely loved his family.  He found no greater joy than in spending time with us.  Baking fudge.  Trying to teach us to play the harmonica.  Teaching us to play billiards on the pool table in the basement.  Raking up leaves and letting us jump in.  Rescuing me from the crabapple tree when I climbed too high to get myself down.  Instructing us on the finer points of poker.  Pushing us on the swing.  Fixing our bikes.  Every time he'd hold a new grandchild or great-grandchild he'd say, "You can have all the cars, boats, and houses in the world-- but nothing compares to this."
• Endure to the end.  Up until his death, Gramps never missed Church.  Even when his strength was waning, he'd still get up and put on that suit and tie so that he could be at services 30 minutes early, so he could greet others when they came in.  I pray that I can be as diligent when I reach my 80s.
• Death doesn't separate families from their loved ones.  Shortly after Gramps passed, I served as a missionary.  Although one can describe what mission service is like, I don't think it's something one can truly comprehend unless they have served a mission themselves.  What a difficult thing it can be at times!  There were days when I would ask myself, "Why?  Why put yourself through this?"  Even with incredible companions (assigned missionary partners), I would sometimes feel very alone.  I would cry, wishing that someone familiar were there to help me through.  Because missionaries are only allowed to contact their families weekly through emails and semi-annually through phone calls, reaching out to my family for support was out of the question.  On those really hard days-- and there were several of them-- I found it interesting that it felt as though my Gramps was cheering me on.  I somehow knew that he knew.  I knew that he was proud of me.  Even in death, he wasn't content to let me waste a minute of my precious time, especially when that time would be spent in the service of others.

I suppose I could go on a lot longer.  Maybe my family would be willing to fill in their thoughts in the comments below.  (Or not.  Whatever.)  Truly, I am such a blessed individual to have shared a birthday with a man who was/is so inspiring to so many.  I'll be sure to keep lighting an extra candle for you, Gramps.