A Giant

For those who don't know my dad died when I was five, at some point I will write a post about that, but today is not that day. But it is father's day and I should definitely honor someone, so this father's day I want to share with you something I wrote for my grandfather's funeral a couple year ago.

My grandfather was a giant, so was my dad, at least to my five and under brain, back then importance was so linked to the height of a person.  Even later in life I find myself judging the importance of someone based on how tall they are, of course my own height has changed a bit since then.  But back to my Grandpa.  I have a lot of memories of my Grandpa, most of which take place in a dark, crowded basement where he spent a lot of his time when I was younger.  I am not sure if it was where Grandpa was comfortable, or if its just where he went because Grandma ordered him to go, today, as much as when I was younger when Grandma speaks you do what she says, this might bother some people, but a lot of times when I think of the commanding voice of God, I think that it might sound a little like my Grandma’s.  But whether he was there because that was his spot or he was there because Grandma made him, that’s where he was, in the dark basement, oftentimes surrounded by the aroma of a freshly smoked cigar, I assume that Grandpa smoked these cigars, but I only seem to have memories of a cigar butt resting in the ashtray, never in his lips.

For a little kid the basement almost bordered on being in another world, sometimes the T.V. was on, sometimes the police scanner was on, and some times both were on at the same time.  Then during the holiday season the tree and trains were added, and then occasionally the T.V. would be on and the police scanner would be on and the tree would be playing its jingle bells and away in the manger and the trains would be going.  It was a wonderful world indeed.  The basement, being so directly  connected to the driveway was usually the first and last place you were, so oftentimes Grandpa was the first and last person that you would see, it was nice knowing that would be the case, because I would get the chance to gaze at all of Grandpa’s toys at least twice in a visit.

Speaking of Grandpa’s toys, when I was around 7 or eight I received a Cabbage Patch Doll, a boy, dressed in a New York Yankee uniform and wearing a hard plastic batting helmet, and I can clearly remember my Grandma telling my mom that boys should not have dolls, and I remember my Grandpa telling me that boys should not have dolls, and I remember about a year or two later my Grandpa got a My Buddy.  I am not sure if you remember My Buddy’s, but they were a doll, a boy about two feet tall dressed in overalls a shirt and a ballcap, so my Grandpa who told a little boy he shouldn’t have dolls, got one for himself, I can only imagine that it was because he was jealous that I had one and that he did not.

The other memories of my Grandpa from childhood occurred on a swing on a porch in the backyard of my grandparents house.  On this swing I would sit with my grandparents and watch the birds eat the birdfeed, enjoy a nice spring or summer afternoon and drink stuff, my grandparents drank tea that set out in the sun and tasted so awful to my young tongue, I would drink something else, sometimes pop, sometimes water, sometimes crystal light, which was always kept in the cupboard directly across from the door to the basement.

To Grandma I want to say thank you for loving me, and for loving Grandpa.  And to Grandpa I want to say that I miss you, that I’ll always love you and that I still sit down sometimes and remember those younger days that were fun and carefree and went by oh so fast.  There were times when life brought us together and times that life took us apart, but I will always remember a basement that allowed a little boy’s imagination to roam free, from dreaming of space in the form of a little landing pod, or being on a train steaming through a town celebrating Christmas, or living in a land of Giants.  My Grandfather is a giant.

Peace and Love,

Pastor K