The kick-off to summer comes with picnics, a long weekend, and parades to honor soldiers who died fighting for our freedom. For me, it brings reminders of my Grandfather who died on Memorial Day, not long after the family picnic and right after my sisters and I left his bedside. He was a veteran of World War I; he knew how precious life is and that others never made it home to experience what he did.
Today, I sit in his old rocking chair and reflect on his life. It is a testament to simpler times, common values and steadfastness. Although he knew hardship, he never created it or dwelled on it. He was cheerful and present when he showed up and we adored him, every single one of us. Ever interested in our lives, he was a letter-writer, photographer and collector of memorabilia.
When he showed me his photo gallery, I would blush in front of a framed photo of me cut from a magazine, a women’s fashion magazine, nonetheless. It was a make-over story, so he had cut out the “before” picture where I looked like I just rolled out of bed. He was not interested in catching us at our worst, he displayed our best, reminding us of it when we were in his presence.
I can imagine if he were still alive, he would engage in social media for the sake of photo-sharing, bringing respect, humor and kindness to his posts. Cannot remember witnessing anything but that from him. When he visited us with Grandma on Friday evenings, we would play games. Canasta was a favorite. Looking back, I consider the patience it must have taken for him to teach us the rules to the card game. I never remember him being short with us nor letting us bend the rules. I learned so much from him.
I miss Grandpa. I miss that standard of behavior. The predictability. The affability. The loyalty to what mattered. He dedicated his life to family, community and service. This left no time for divisiveness, mean-spiritedness, or ill will. Grandpa fought for our freedom and he cherished his freedom. He did not squander it. I don’t remember Grandpa having bad habits (cigar smoking does not count) or bad behavior.
Perhaps it is an ongoing battle to avoid bad habits and behaviors. We are fighting for inner freedom as much as for our national security. It takes strength of character to maintain freedom on both personal and national levels. I look to my Grandfather for a model of good character, for guidance in making right choices. During the day, he took care of what needed to be done, at the end of the day, too tired to do anything else, he would smoke a cigar in his chair with Grandma nearby. Then they watched the news before sleep, to get ready for the next day.
Simple pleasures may have changed, conveniences have multiplied, but the way my Grandfather lived is more compelling than ever. I am so grateful for the model of his life. I suggest that his routines, commitments and abiding values, were developed with support, but chosen in freedom. Freedom he used to share what he had to give, to be fun-loving, grateful and caring. Grandpa had little by the way of material possessions, but it was enough. He needed little in order to live large. He had good character, that’s what mattered then and still does.
Today, I remember and celebrate Grandpa and pray for the power to live up to his legacy. No better way to do it than the family Memorial Day picnic, where my husband and I will celebrate summer and freedom with children, siblings, nieces, nephews and our newborn grandchild. One day I imagine sitting in my Grandpa’s old rocking chair and telling him the story of his great-great-grandfather, of a life well lived, something worth fighting for.
