Monday, January 18, 2010

Grandpa Flower

I’m 27 years old and all four of my grandparents are alive and well. This is, I believe, rare. It’s a treat, a privilege, bestowed on few. I’ve been able to get to know my grandparents, to hear their life’s stories and adventures in their own words. They are amazing multi-faceted people and their lives intrigue me. And while they have all led extraordinary lives, I can see each of my grandparents as just plain human beings in a very real, very palpable way I don’t think would be possible if I hadn’t been able to spend my life so far getting to know them.

Here are a few of my favorite memories, my favorite stories, about my Grandpa Flower.

Grandpa Flower used to call my sister, Susan, and myself Penelope and Maryann. This is something I hadn’t thought about in years but recently remembered during a trip home for Christmas. I believe Susan was Penelope and I was Maryann and I can’t remember when he stopped calling us that. Oh, and to be clear, he called us those names as a joke, not as a result of a fading memory or out of old-person confusion. That was Grandpa when we were kids, always teasing us, always joking around with us.

Whenever it was time to leave Grandpa and Grandma’s house we would hug Grandma good-bye, then giggle in anticipation of Grandpa’s bear hug and big sloppy noisy kiss on the cheek. The last few times I’ve been home a much older, slightly more serious, Grandpa has hugged me in a way he never used to, in a way you hug someone when you realize you will not always be able to hug him.

In middle school and high school, studies about World War 2 always made me think of him and always made me realize how little I know about the large man with a crew cut who likes to sit in his big arm chair and watch the game. I know his family background is complicated with divorce and alcoholism, I know he used to teach chemistry and coach basketball, I know he was shot once in the war, and I know he won’t talk about most of that stuff.

Possibly my favorite memory of my Grandpa Flower was at his and my Grandma’s 50th wedding anniversary party. There were photos everywhere of their younger selves. Grandma was an absolute knockout when she was younger, stunning in a classic way, in a creamy white skin and cherry lipstick kind of way. A party guest approached Grandpa at one point and said to him Nell was beautiful when she was younger. Without missing a beat, without a smirk or a silly smile, Grandpa said, “still is.” His response gave me goose bumps and I knew then that I want what they have someday.