Nine Decades and Counting

This weekend, I'm going to Florida to celebrate my grandfather's 90th (yes, ninetieth) birthday with my dad's whole side of the family.  (Also on the agenda:  meeting a particularly fabulous blogger we all know and love, who, much to my delight, has become a dear friend via email, and I can't wait to hug her and pinch her cheeks and marvel at her adorable self in person.  Squee!) 

I'm convinced my Granddad will outlive all of us.  Aside from the fact that several of his forbears have lived to be over a hundred, his mind is as sharp as ever and he's physically robust; he about breaks your ribs when he greets you with one of his trademark bear hugs.  He still looks the same as he has my whole life -- tall and wiry with a circle of white hair around his otherwise bald pate, with high, hollow cheeks, bright green eyes, a genuine, open-mouthed grin and thick, useful hands. 

Granddad was born and grew up in a tiny Iowa farm town -- if you're a sports fan, you may be interested to know that he played football with Heisman trophy winner Nile Kinnick and batted against baseball great Bob Feller -- then went to Iowa State and became an engineer.  Oddly, his impressive math skills made it no further than his firstborn son; both my dad and his other brother were exhorted to follow in the engineering path and nearly failed out of college until they switched majors to more verbal subjects.  Granddad had high hopes for me because I squeaked by with A's in math all the way through school, but GOD, did I hate it.  And I still don't understand how people actually USE math to, like, do stuff, like build things.  So yeah -- no carrying of the engineering torch for me.

Growing up, our extended family spent a week every summer at my grandparents' house on Lake Springfield in Illinois.  Grammie and Granddad had an amazing plot of land, a massive peninsula that sloped down to the water on three sides, with a rambling house perched at the top of the hill.  The house somehow had enough room for everyone, although privacy was not plentiful.  Or available.  At all.  But the point was that the whole family got together once a year, so that, even though we all lived far apart, we grew up knowing our aunts, uncles and cousins as though we were right next door year-round.

Granddad had a motor boat from the 1950s -- he was constantly rebuilding the outboard engine, which ultimately lasted almost forty years -- and it was a family requirement that you learn to waterski before age 10.  He had a land-based training program that he did with each rookie skier, letting you feel the pull of the rope and showing you how to hold your feet perfectly parallel, and then when we graduated to the on-water portion, he'd swim alongside us as we were dragged around the bay, spluttering lake water and crashing face-first into the drink until we finally got up and made our first voyage on skis. 

Of course, all that fun had to be earned somehow.  Every year, the family project at the beginning of the reunion was to rebuild the dock.  Before we could take the boat out (which, by the way, invariably broke down at least once a summer, stranding a group of us in the middle of the vast lake -- sometimes as a thunderstorm approached -- to paddle our way home with tiny wooden oars and waterskis), Granddad would lay out his blueprints and my uncle would delegate jobs, and we'd spend a full day hammering planks and sanding down rough edges, until we had a serviceable dock and were allowed to enjoy ourselves.

Granddad was (and is) an early riser, and he used to love to play his electronic organ at dawn, much to the chagrin of all of the slumbering teenagers in the house.  You'd be dead asleep in the pitch dark of the basement, when the sounds of "Lara's Song" from Dr. Zhivago would come vibrating through the floor at full volume, the bossa nova beat pulsing you awake against your will.  Soooooomewhere, my loooooooove...  The tune still gives me an urge to pull a pillow over my head.   

My grandparents (who, by the way, were married for 60 years before Grammie passed away six years ago) used to drive from Illinois to Florida every winter -- until they eventually gave up on being snowbirds and moved altogether -- and they'd stop at our house on the way.  They didn't travel low-profile.  No.  Granddad drove a screaming-orange motorhome that was the length of a city block, with a massive red and yellow crest painted on the side.  He was obsessed with low gas prices (understandably, since the Big Orange, as we called it, got maybe half a mile per gallon) and, as they made their way South, he would remember that he'd seen cheap fuel in Akron thirty years ago, so he'd drive a hundred miles out of the way to save twenty cents. 

Gas prices aside, Granddad has always been willing to cover any distance by car in order to attend a family event or witness a milestone.  He's been to our graduations and weddings, no matter how out of the way and despite any travel snags -- this summer, when my cousin got married, Granddad was to fly up from Florida for the long weekend.  Weather and other delays kept him stranded at the airport for hours, then on the tarmac for even longer, and eventually they canceled his flight.  He managed to wrest a seat out of the airline for a flight the next day and made it just in time for the ceremony.  Lots of people (myself included) -- people who aren't 89 years old, mind you -- would have thrown up their hands and given up, but Granddad absolutely would not hear of missing his granddaughter's wedding. 

I could go on and list everything I've gotten from Granddad in addition to my green eyes and high cheekbones and lipless smile -- but this already sounds enough like a fifth grade essay ("My Granddad" by Lawyerish), and it's probably pretty clear if you've been paying attention anyway (importance of family, Protestant work ethic, Midwestern values, blah blah).  I just wish you could all meet him, because I don't think they make 'em like that anymore.  In fact, maybe I'll start renting him out, because everyone needs some Granddad in their life, and he's terrific for weddings, graduations, baptisms...  Just be sure you know where he can find the cheapest gas in town.

Comments

[Allison]

Oh man. The Big Orange. And he would back that thing down the precipitous 90 degree slope of your parents' driveway.

However did I miss that he played the organ? BWA HAHA!!! That's awesome! Happy Birthday, Granddad!

[terriwc]

A man worthy of tribute who truly believes family always comes first, but also that nothing is free--work before play. Desserts are to be earned and there must be many of them! He is going to be twiddling those thumbs all over the place this weekend with a grin a mile wide. And you will hear numerous times "and Elsie and I started all this!"

[-R-]

It sounds like you have an amazing family. Have a fabulous time in Florida!

[claire]

Aw, that almost made me a little weapy.. How wonderful to have such a family. Happy B-day, Grandad!

[Jen]

Awwww. How sweet. This sounds a lot like some of my relatives as well. Have a great time!

[Vicki]

what a perfect picture of a Grandfather.

Here's what I thought when I was reading it. All the work and planning that went into your families getting together for that week. I grew up in a family almost the same, and as a child we dont see the work, we keep the memories.

I need to do that more with my children.

[jes]

Your description of him:
"- tall and wiry with a circle of white hair around his otherwise bald pate, with high, hollow cheeks, bright green eyes, a genuine, open-mouthed grin and thick, useful hands."

That description almost brought tears to my eyes. Especially the part about the thick, useful hands.

It reminds me so much of my own Poppy before my grandmom passed away.

[jonniker]

I can't wait. (And also, love your grandfather. LOVE.)

[lawyerish]

Allison - It is a wonder no one was ever maimed in the maneuvering of the Big Orange down that driveway. Lordy.

Mom - Yep; he's going to in his element, for sure.

R - Thanks!

Claire - Aw. I really do treasure (as cheesy as it sounds) my family.

Jen - You must be a lucky girl, too, then!

Vicki - You know what? That is so true; the logistics of our family reunions must have been mind-boggling, but I remember none of that. And as we've all gotten older and busier, it has gotten even harder. Thankfully, though, when there's an event we're willing to go through whatever it takes to get there.

Jes - Poppy. I love that. I want to read about Poppy sometime.

Jonna - Well, yeah! I'm counting down the days! And if my grandfather is around when you're there, he'll hug you, too. Be prepared.

[Jen W.]

Aw, that was so sweet. I should go call my grandpas too.

Eeek! A blogger meeting! Drive to the East Coast and I'll take you out to lunch! :)

You are going to have so much fun.