Tonight I pay homage to a movie. I can't say it's my favorite movie; I've never been one for the war film genre. And, to be honest, I don't watch too many black and whites either. But this movie holds a special place in my heart because it reminds me of my paternal grandfather on this, his 79th birthday.
I only wish he were around to celebrate it.
I can't say that I have many memories of the man, as he was a quiet sort who rarely spoke more than a few sentences at a time. I know he loved baseball as a lifelong Detroit Tigers fan (his favorite player was Hank Greenberg). I know he loved God above all else, never missing a Sunday to pay Him homage. I know he worked his butt off his entire life as a pipe coverer, a town of North Haven public works employee, and a Cablewave janitor. I know that he should have died much sooner than he did because he inhaled obscene amounts of asbestos during his years as a pipe coverer. I know that he didn't die because he had a rare condition - the name of which I do not know - that caused him to sweat out the asbestos leaving not a trace of it in his body. I know that he loved gadgets of all kinds. Apple peelers and weed wackers and whatsits and doodads. I know that he loved bread and butter. And strawberry milkshakes. And hot dogs. And sauerkraut. And food of any kind. I also know it was best that you not put your hand anywhere near his plate while he was eating lest you lose it. I know that he set up a village beneath the Christmas Tree every year. I know that he was not a good driver. I know that he loved St. Peter's.
And I know that he was a United States Marine.
As an outsider to that clan, I could never understand how my grandfather knew another person was also a Marine. But he knew. He'd be pumping gas. Semper Fi, he'd say to someone. Semper Fi, the someone would return. An amazing phenomenon...
Which leads me to the title of this post. In my grandparents' house, if it was a Friday night and we didn't have to wake up early the following morning, we had multiple movies from which to choose. For any movie we chose, my grandfather would be asleep within the first ten minutes... except one. Gung Ho!
Every once in a while, he'd suggest it. Most of the time, my grandmother, my brother, and I would overrule him and move on to something else. But there were those times when my brother and I would side with him. At those times, my grandmother would go upstairs to bed and we would remain with 'Grandpa' watching the movie. And watch, we did. He never spoke. But it was also clear that he didn't sleep. Instead, he watched intently, as if he was searching for a lost friend inside the television. At the end of the movie, the tears would come. I'd steal glances at this normally reserved man and watch each single tear fall down his cheek.
For him, his life was God! Family! Country! Corps!
I miss ya, yardbird...
1 comment:
The disease was called "Shapiro Syndrome". It was a malformation of the corpus collasum in the brain. Dad had few faults, an easy smile and a simplistic view of life: family, work, memories and Faith. I miss him.
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