I knew a man once, many years ago, who was a decent man. He was married to my grandmother. He was not my biological grandfather, however, because my grandfather had died at the dawn of the 1940s, before I was born. But this man was my grandmother’s second husband and, as I said, he was a decent man.
But to my uncles on that side of the family (my grandmother’s sons) he was at best an outsider and at worst an interloper. My uncles made fun of him—not usually to his face but among themselves. Their jeers drew attention to this decent man’s flaws. He was elderly, and like other men his age, he had lived through the so called Great Depression of the 1930s which made him thrifty—my uncles called him stingy. He was an independent-minded man who refused to be bullied; my uncles said he was stubborn and hard-headed and attributed this personality trait to his German heritage.
So maybe he was stubborn; what of it? I’m a man now of his years and I’ve never liked or responded well to being bullied. Is this a blemish carried down from my English or Swedish ancestry? Perhaps this decent man could have been more open to other people’s suggestions and ideas—especially my grandmother’s requests to mind the speed limits when driving—but again, he was an elderly gentleman when I knew him and perhaps he felt uncomfortable driving because of certain physical limitations related to age.
I grew up, like all or most of my cousins, thinking of this decent man as an outsider who was difficult to live with. I carried these impressions of this decent man into my adulthood without thinking very much about it. The decent man had become a cutout, a two-dimensional photo of a man, representative of characteristics worthy of ridicule. But I had not really given much thought about the decent man who I knew as a child.
Later in life, I thought about this decent man and what I personally knew about him from my own experience. I remembered his whiskery hugs and kisses on the cheek he gave whenever we arrived at his and my grandmother’s home. I remember the tears that welled in his eyes when we were leaving. Obviously, he felt some deep sadness when our visits ended. I remember he was quiet and let my grandmother absorb the spotlight during family gatherings or when her children paid a visit. He did chores, especially those no one else cared to do. I remember that his dentures slipped at mealtime, creating a soft clicking sound that no one else I had ever known made. I remember that he was proud to have been born and raised in Ohio. I remember that he loved my grandmother and would have done anything in his power for her. I didn’t remember him being stingy or stubborn, but generous with his time and love. I remember him being a decent man.
What I also discovered, far too late in life to express to him personally, was that I loved him. And I still do. I love you Grandpa Vern and I hope somehow you know this now.
Dale, this is a lovely appreciation of your grandmother’s second husband! It resonates with me because I can see my own father in your words – he too was a thoroughly decent man, but I hadn’t realised quite how decent until I saw the packed church at his funeral…… I wish I’d known him better, but I was only 19 when he passed and the kind of adult conversations that would have allowed that (rather then the childish ones I had had previously) were lost. This troubled me for nearly 50 years, although I never admitted it, even to myself, and were on of the triggers for the year of depression I went through post Covid. I finally managed to exorcise the guilt in a short story I wrung out of my subconscious a couple of years ago.
I also posted a tribute to him (and my dear departed mum) on my blog, and that too helped my recovery. Here is the link, if you want to take a look. I think you would appreciate it…..
https://travellin-bob2.blogspot.com/2021/10/remembering-mum-and-dad-all-souls-day-1.html
Thank you, Bob. It was very generous of you to share these thoughts with us. I will read your tribute to your parents and further comment on it there. Yes, I know how insidious depression can be—how it can hide in latency for so many years before taking over one’s life. It takes a strong man or woman to free him- or herself from its clutches. I’m glad you have. Again, thank you for this comment.
I couldn’t see where I could comment on your tribute on your blog, so I’ll add a note here, instead.
First of all, your tribute is a beautiful piece. I especially liked the intimacy of the writing which drew me into the eras and places you were describing. It offered the same comfort as if we sat together at coffee as you shared tales of the past, the handing on of history, but family history—that most precious type of history any of us own. And it was, more than anything else, a wonderful portrait of you, as well as your family. Thank you, Bob.
Hi, Dale. I’m glad you enjoyed the essay, and thank you for your kind words. For future reference, there is a space at the end of each post that allows a Comment, and offers the choice of doing it anonymously or via your email account……it can be bit touchy (I’ve had complaints before!) but most times it works fine. I just checked the link and the Comment facility seems to be there ok – I guess you just caught it on a bad day!
Thank you, Bob. I will just add that whatever frame of mind you got into during the writing of your tribute to your parents, it affected your writing in a very powerful way. The tribute had power because it spoke directly to the common human heart, that universal experience we all understand. Again, thank you for sharing it.
This is a wonderful post. Deeply touching and beautifully written. Absolutely love the emotions enmeshed in the same. Thank you for sharing his story with us. 🙂
Thank you, so much, Lopamudra. I’ve missed you on the blogs these past few weeks. I hope you are doing well. But I’ve noticed our little circle of writers seems to have taken time off from the blogs, no doubt to work more freely on our writing projects. My project is at a critical turning point, so I’ve had to give it a lot of thought and write a lot of notes before moving forward. But I’m itching to get back into the writing process again and add chapters to the manuscript. It’s very good to see you again, my friend. [Namaskar]
Wow ! Namaskar ! That was unexpected. Yes, I suppose we are all becoming busy with our writing projects. Life is unpredictable and writers need their words more than anything else during good times and bad times 🙂 Having said that, I do intend to be more regular on my blog. Sneaking out an hour or two from my professional life 🙂 Hope all is well with you and your family.