Tell Me A Story Grampy

Growing up in the 1960s and 1970s in the Rubber City was an interesting time for me. The more I look back on it, the more I am amazed of all the things I lived through and of the number of things that I was innocently unaware of that was going on around me. Being a kid seemed like so much fun for the most part. Be home when the streetlights kick on. Other than that, it seemed like I had total autonomy to get outside and be a kid.

I don’t remember worrying about bills, who the president was (or was going to be), being late for anything, having enough food and clothes, what time to get up, fixing my food, what kind of education was important, health insurance, dental insurance, taking medicine for anything. You get the drift. Mom and Dad were responsible for all of that. Mom would ask nice, and Dad would be the heavy when necessary to get us moving.

I instead got to concentrate on my bike, the cute girl up the street, where the game was and what time I had to be there, bringing home good grades, staying out of trouble (oops), hanging with my buddies, going to church on Sunday, and listening for the ice cream truck coming down the street. Not bad really.

Mom and Dad were big on doing things as a family so we hung out with our cousins, friends, other relatives, and our parent’s work friends or fishing buddies. Every once in a while, and definitely around the holidays we spent time visiting with the grandparents. When I was that young, everyone seemed to be 150 years old, wore outdated clothes, and talked about things I could care less about. I remember a lot of sitting around and listening to reports from recent doctor visits, surgeries, and the like.

Even with all of that, I did not know my two grandfathers well at all. I knew them better than my brother and sister but not intimately. Neither of them seemed to like the things I liked so it was hard to get a conversation going. As the oldest I was expected to make my parents proud by being able to carry on conversations with adults (when THEY wanted to speak to me) and to be polite and respectful. I think I did that, but my competition (my younger brother and much younger sister) was more than happy to let “big brother” carry the ball.

Over time I actually started to really enjoy hearing their stories of life before my time. They were hard working men that had to work a LOT back in those days and like a lot of other guys their age, they liked to drink just as hard once work was over. Ours was not a Norman Rockwell family for sure. Both of my grandfathers were alcoholics which meant I rarely saw them and when I did it was not “Hey, Mark come sit with Grampy and let me tell you a story.” It was usually being semi forced to give them a hug and getting scratched by their beard stubble and catching a whiff of whatever they were drinking.

Grandpa Rutledge passed at 51 when I was 12 from cancer. I know the least about him. Whenever we did go to visit them, or they came to our house he would sit around for a half hour or so and then it was off to the nearest bar. I went sometimes and drank about a case of Orange Crush until the men talked about how hard life was, I guess. I didn’t go much because it was boring, smelly and loud. His was the first funeral I went to, and I remember how sad everyone was at the funeral home.

My Grandpa Fordham lived out in the country in the suburbs, and he was generally a mean, miserable person especially when he drank. He smoked nonfiltered Pall Malls to the tune of about five to six packs a day. He passed in his seventies when I was 30. I wanted a relationship with him badly when I was in high school and stayed with him one summer and helped him do a lot of things around his house. I even got him to come to one of my football games but as was typical, once the booze kicked in, he would turn into a person no one wanted to be around. I came home once after I had moved away, and Mom talked me into going out to visit him. Let’s just say it ended poorly as he didn’t know who I was and spent most of the time cussing me and my family. I left and told him the next time that I see him he will be in a coffin. I kept my word.

When I started dating Michelle, I got to meet her grandfathers, and these guys were Norman Rockwell-like grampies. I sort of adopted them both and they welcomed me into their families over time and treated me like one of the grandkids with the exception of warning me if I messed with Michelle, they knew of a lot of places to bury a body where no one would find me. I believed them.

I enjoyed my time with them, and I miss them but they both filled a giant hole in my life and the I was determined to be a good grandfather if I ever got the chance. Today’s blog will be about the first time I actually did hear, “Tell Me A Story Grampy” and how it was a highlight in my life.

But First…A Joke:

Four people are headed to Hawaii on a plane: a pilot, a lawyer, a pastor, and a kid. Suddenly, the plane starts shaking and begins to go down. Searching around the cabin, they find only three parachutes. “I have a family, and a daughter who is expecting!” says the pilot. Before anyone can stop him, he grabs a parachute and jumps off the plane. The lawyer says, “Well, I’m the smartest man on earth, so I deserve to live!” He also grabs a parachute and jumps off. Now there’s only one parachute left. The pastor notices this and tells the kid, “Son, go ahead and take this last one. I have lived me life.” The boy looks around the plane. “Wait, we both can live!” “How?” the pastor asks. “Because the smartest man in the world just jumped out with my backpack.”

Bonus Dad Joke:

A young boy was lost in the mall. He ran over to a police officer. “I’ve lost my dad!” he said. “What’s he like?” the cop asked. “Baseball and beer.”

A Verse to Contemplate:

But mark this: There will be terrible times in the last days. People will be lovers of themselves, lovers of money, boastful, proud, abusive, disobedient to their parents, ungrateful, unholy, heartless, unappeasable, slanderous, without self-control, brutal, unloving, treacherous, reckless, swollen with conceit, lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God, having a form of godliness but denying its power. Have nothing to do with them. - 2 Timothy 3: 1-5

Have I Told You This One?

Michelle and I were married in August of 1982 in Akron, Ohio on a very hot day at the Akron Baptist Temple. It was a blur of a day and before I knew it, we were taking pictures and heading to the reception hall to celebrate. At the same time, Grandpa Sawyer (Michelle’s Dad’s father) had recently become a widower of his long-time wife who suffered from end stage renal failure. I admired him as he devoted his life to taking care of her, waiting on her, driving her to doctor’s appointments and the dialysis center for treatments. He was always upbeat around others and would talk so charmingly about his bride. He would tell her how beautiful she was, and I believed it. She passed right before our wedding, and he had to come up from Florida alone to celebrate with us.

Everyone could tell that he was really grieving hard and that he really missed her. Being there without her was tearing him up but he put on a brave face and got through it. I’m 22 and pretty clueless then but as I look back on it now, it sure hits hard. I remember talking to him as he was getting ready to leave. He gave my hand a firm shake, and I felt something, it was a $50 bill. I told him that it wasn’t necessary, and he laughed at me and said, “Trust me, you’ll need it!” As he left the hall, I could see his shoulders shaking from crying and it left a permanent groove in my brain. I really loved that guy, and I was so sorry I couldn’t make him feel better. I secretly hoped that I could love Michelle as much as he loved his late wife.

Fast forward about 35 years or so and I find out that I am going to be a grandfather. At the time, I was taken aback and wasn’t sure I was ready. Aren’t grandparents 150 years old and wear outdated clothes? That’s not Me…Right?! When Preston was born, I couldn’t have been happier and prouder! Then Micah was born, then Rowan and God willing, Helena Michelle will be here in 2025.

I really, really, really, really love being their “Grampy” (the name Preston gave me). It’s like an entire new life and opportunity to have an impact on a new generation and I live for that stuff. It is my secret sauce that invigorates me. Watching them run toward me with their arms out and calling my name is heaven on earth. Handing them back when they smell funny is the fruit of years of being Dad.

They all like to hear stories and they certainly picked a good fella for that. I remember the first time each of them has struggled up the couch to sit next to me and say “Tell Me A Story Grampy” I love it, and after the 48th time reading the same story, I start to adlib parts of the story to see if they are paying attention or maybe skip a few pages, but it never seems to work. I love their innocence and dread the day when they lose it like I lost mine and you lost yours. When I sit around and tell them about my latest doctor’s appointment or discuss who the next president should be or why the Tribe can’t ever win the World Series (side note: I don’t dare tell them about the Browns!).

One of the things I want to say one day to them is “I’m so sorry.” They will say, “What for Grampy?” and I will have to say for leaving you such a banged-up world to live in. I truly wish we could have managed it better, but one thing remains, and that God is in control and He knows how the story will end. On the day, I get to tell them this story, it will go something like this:

“A person who comes to Christ in confession and repentance does not condemn others who hold different beliefs. Condemnation is for cowards, not for Christ followers. There is no condemnation in Christ Jesus (Romans 8). An individual “in Christ” has new weapons in the arsenal of faith. Hate has been replaced by love. Violence has been replaced by peace. Death has been replaced by life. Retaliation has been replaced by forgiveness. Heaven’s call is for the followers of Christ to rise up in a powerful proclamation of prayer. We are the body of Christ. When one member of the body suffers, the entire body suffers.” Following “leaders” like the ones we are being forced to embrace is a losing battle. They have no clue in how to bring people together. They (and Satan) only want division and to hear their opinions coming out of your mouth. Think for yourself through the grid of the Bible and pray for those that are struggling. The world is watching, Shock the World!

Grampy loves you.

A Prayer:

Heavenly Father, help me to see waiting on You as an opportunity to trust and grow in You. I want to learn and be patient in Your power as I wait while You are working. I am so inpatient and find it hard to trust. Give me Your strength because I prove every day that it is not within me.

Book Recommendation:

Becoming A King (The Path to Restoring the Heart of a Man) by Morgan Snyder (2021)

Music Recommendation:

The Cars by The Cars (1978)

Quote of the Day:

“One of the lessons of history is that nothing is often a good thing to do and always a clever thing to say.” —Will Durant