Over the past day as I've tried to absorb this unexpected news, I've spent a lot of time pulling out my memories with him. Most of them are sort of silly stories. It's hard to tell a story of a warm hug or a tender smile or the goodness that someone radiates . . . so I'm left telling the silly ones, though there are many others worth sharing.
How do you have a first memory of someone you've known your whole life? As I think of Granddaddy, I think of General Conference and Thanksgiving in the fall, of Christmas parties and Christmas afternoons in the winter, of Easter and yard work in the spring, and of many, many summer events and parties, especially when we celebrated Pioneer Day and his birthday. There were lots of visits both directions, and I remember many, many conversations we had together.
So it's hard to narrow down what my first memory is. However, I do remember an argument we had when I was about 4, which is a bit of a surprise because it's the only one I really remember. He was watching me one time, and he pulled out a book he wanted to read me. It was some book about some boy in the jungle (all I remember is it wasn't the Jungle Book).
"My dad reads me The Secret Garden."
"I want to read you this book."
"I want you to read me The Secret Garden."
"I want to read this to you."
I really don't know what he ended up reading me. Maybe my parents came before he started to read.
***
Another time, he and Grandma (everyone else called her Mima, but I was a slow adopter) were watching us while my parents were gone. It was lunch time and he was looking through the fridge.
"Do you have any mayonnaise? I can't find any."
"Oh! I know where it is," I exclaimed and pulled out a jar of white stuff.
"That's miracle whip."
"I thought Miracle Whip was the brand name of mayonnaise," I responded.
"No, Kraft is the brand name of Miracle Whip. See? Kraft. Miracle Whip," he said as he pointed to the labels.
I didn't really see the big deal. They were both white, so what else mattered?
Now I know.
***
There are many things I inherited from Granddaddy. We both love music, literature, writing autobiographically, languages, and theology. I feel like his example influenced me to choose to read the best books, even the ones that weren't engineering textbooks.
However, in a few areas, he and I had differing tastes, at least initially.
For example, he hated the song "Put Your Shoulder to the Wheel." He even brought it up in a Sacrament Meeting talk. I couldn't understand it. Our chorister loved loved loved it and even paused us in the middle if we weren't singing it with enough gusto. And of course, for the final chorus, we went at half-speed. How could Granddaddy not like a song like that? (I mostly agree with him now.)
He also liked Irish tenors. One time, he picked me up from piano lessons and began to sing in an Irish tenor voice. After he finished a few phrases, he said, "Let's listen to someone who can do this for real."
He then turned on a tape in his car, and there was a man warbling up in the notes that I thought belonged to girls. I didn't tell him this, but I thought he actually sounded better than the man on the tape.
And of course, there was the drive to New Jersey for my dad's sabbatical. Since we were taking both cars, Mima kept my mom company and Granddaddy went with my dad. We kids took turns in the different cars. While it was fun hanging out with my dad and grandpa, the fact was they liked really boring books on tape. On the bright side, I guess I did learn a lot about Rachel Jackson, the wife of Andrew Jackson. (In all honesty, I loved being in the car with him and my dad. When they weren't listening to the tapes, the conversations were incredible, and I grew really close to him.)
Differing tastes aside, these stories illustrate how involved he was in serving our family. It's only been in recent years where we've lived away from family that it's hit me. Oh! That's what families do! They help each other with moves and babysitting and support each other in church events. I was so used to it I didn't even realize that it was happening.
***
Summers were prime grandparent time. There were so many weekends we would make the 2-hour trek down to Orem to spend the night with them or with cousins. We would go to parades, light fireworks, eat popsicles, decorate cupcakes, and sit out on their back deck enjoying everyone's company.
I also remember Granddaddy going out pretty often with some salt. "Time to get rid of some snails," he would say as he went to work.
But when I was a teenager, my younger cousins decided that was no longer okay. They grabbed a box, stuffed some grass in it, and went around rescuing snails from a shriveled fate. As they found more and more, they got excited.
"They can have snail babies now!" and did all they could to encourage the snails. As they made bigger and bolder plans, I looked over at Granddaddy. I could see in his grimace what he wouldn't say out loud -- he didn't want his yard to be a snail wildlife refuge.
I don't remember what happened, but after that day the snail rescue plans were discarded. Poor snails.
***
Grandaddy taught Spanish at BYU for years, so he and Mima still attended many of the events. If I went to a concert, there was a good chance they were there too. I might happen to run into them at the BYU bookstore. Or, as I excitedly pointed out to everyone else at freshman orientation, I could see him in the video where he played Karl G. Maeser in the history of BYU video shown there. Each time, it was exciting, and I was proud that my grandparents were cool enough to walk around BYU.
I confess there was one place I always felt silly running into him. Many morning when I went running on the track, there he was too, jogging along slowly with other elderly men. I would say hi, but what was I supposed to do? They were going too slow for me to stay with them, and they probably wanted to have their own conversation. But it felt strange to lap them and say a quick hi as I went past. But that was the best option, so that's what I would do.
***
Even if I didn't run into him on campus, I would run into people who did all the time. One time he asked what classes I was taking. When I mentioned an English class, he asked who the professor was. When I said his name, he grinned brightly.
"He lived here for a little while back in 1975! He needed a place to stay so we put him in that room over there."
I felt strange all of the sudden. Teachers and grandparents were not supposed to mix. But I wasn't surprised, either. So many people had stayed with my grandparents -- all sorts of relatives, exchange students, and professors. We even had video evidence of it from my first birthday -- on the couch next to my grandparents was an exchange student joining in the celebrations.
A few weeks before this conversation, I had heard my mom call my grandma up to see if our good friend Brother Griffin could stay there on the weekdays while they waited for their house to sell. Of course he could, and so he did. As he learned of the many, many people who had lived temporarily with my grandparents (I believe he had counted 37), he dubbed their home a Statue of Liberty of sorts, welcoming the masses in and caring for them once they were there.
***
Granddaddy took to Kevin quickly. A few weeks after we started dating, Kevin and I went over for dinner. When they heard his name, they asked, "Which wife are you from?"
After they figured out the genealogy and after Granddaddy had lent him a book he had written about Henry Moon, the next question was, "Where did you serve your mission?" Puebla? Granddaddy had been to Puebla, and had written about it in a journal. He went to his office and pulled it out for Kevin to read. Although Kevin was a little overwhelmed with this welcome (and the corresponding reading material), he appreciated the sentiment, and he felt the love.
***
Granddaddy was kind, wise, eloquent, loving, and good. He was a good conversationalist and a great listener. He had a strong testimony and a deep love for his family, all the way down to the great-great-grandchildren. We will miss him, and I look forward to seeing him again.
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| At my wedding |
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| Meeting Joseph |
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| Meeting Matthew |
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