I received an email that was forwarded to me from my Dad. I opened it not knowing what it was. Because I don't get many forwards from my Dad I figured it was a good joke. It turned out to be a blog post written by the Pastor of Friendship Baptist Church about my Grandpa Jack. As I read the post I could see my Grandpa's face. He had white hair that looked like it belonged on a movie star from the 40's, always styled neatly. He had eyes as blue as the spring sky that spoke kindness and wisdom with just a look. He was tall but I wouldn't have called him a big man. He had big nose but it suited him well. His mouth was not too full or too thin but was usually smiling unless he was talking serious, but he was not serious too often. He wore slacks with a button up shirt that always had a pocket or two. He never had fancy shoes and he wore a pair until they needed replacing.
He made things. He made wooden toy kits for the children to assemble at Vacation Bible School. He checked the church busses every Saturday to be sure they were safe for the Sunday run and made repairs on them when needed.
He helped his family, neighbors, and the occasional stranger with what ever was needed. He never bragged unless it was about one of his children or grandchildren.
Once when I was very little (I was the youngest grandchild) he drove all the way from his vacation home at Ft. Walton beach to Grand bay just so I could spend the day with my cousins playing there. He had to drive me back home that same evening. He once took me snorkeling in Gulf Shores for the day, just the two of us. He took time to listen, even when I was little. He would let me wash his car when I was too small to reach the roof of it. And he'd pay me three dollars. He had a coin purse in his pocket he'd pull out as soon as the ice cream truck could be heard. My brother and I would line up for coins he'd hand out with a smile.
Being the youngest grandchild meant he was retired when I was in grade school. If I was sick, he'd pick me up and bring me to his house where my Grandma Chris would insist I lay on the couch and rest. If she caught me playing I would get accused of playing "hookey" (usually I was). My Dad's house was on the far side of his property so I saw him daily. Once my brother talked me into skipping school when I was in second grade. Grandpa caught us and I felt a shame seldom matched since. Grandpa Jack was so good. He was the kind of good that made you want to be good too. He was never idle. He had four acres of pecan trees that he tended. Each fall we'd pick pecans. He always had a nut cracker on his picnic table and we'd crack and eat pecans year round.
Grandpa Jack had a sweet tooth too. He baked a cake at least once a week and always had vanilla ice cream. The kitchen at his house smelled like oreo cookies, coffee, and newspaper. I recreate that scent sometimes just to think of him.
He taught me so much. He scolded me once for crying. That was the only time he ever did. He said I was an angel even when I was a rebellious teen. I would say that I loved him but I must say that I love him. I love him now even though he isn't here any more. He lives in my memories and in my heart. He is there now. My love for him is there. His love for me is there too. He was patient, wise, kind, and funny. He always had a story about "when he was a little girl.." He read the funny pages every day and if you stopped by he'd show them to you. He loved Snoopy and Calvin and Hobbes. I can still hear him say: "What's old Snoop up to today?" as he rattled the paper. He was one of a kind and I will always remember him with tears and a smile.
Pastor's blog post
He made things. He made wooden toy kits for the children to assemble at Vacation Bible School. He checked the church busses every Saturday to be sure they were safe for the Sunday run and made repairs on them when needed.
He helped his family, neighbors, and the occasional stranger with what ever was needed. He never bragged unless it was about one of his children or grandchildren.
Once when I was very little (I was the youngest grandchild) he drove all the way from his vacation home at Ft. Walton beach to Grand bay just so I could spend the day with my cousins playing there. He had to drive me back home that same evening. He once took me snorkeling in Gulf Shores for the day, just the two of us. He took time to listen, even when I was little. He would let me wash his car when I was too small to reach the roof of it. And he'd pay me three dollars. He had a coin purse in his pocket he'd pull out as soon as the ice cream truck could be heard. My brother and I would line up for coins he'd hand out with a smile.
Being the youngest grandchild meant he was retired when I was in grade school. If I was sick, he'd pick me up and bring me to his house where my Grandma Chris would insist I lay on the couch and rest. If she caught me playing I would get accused of playing "hookey" (usually I was). My Dad's house was on the far side of his property so I saw him daily. Once my brother talked me into skipping school when I was in second grade. Grandpa caught us and I felt a shame seldom matched since. Grandpa Jack was so good. He was the kind of good that made you want to be good too. He was never idle. He had four acres of pecan trees that he tended. Each fall we'd pick pecans. He always had a nut cracker on his picnic table and we'd crack and eat pecans year round.
Grandpa Jack had a sweet tooth too. He baked a cake at least once a week and always had vanilla ice cream. The kitchen at his house smelled like oreo cookies, coffee, and newspaper. I recreate that scent sometimes just to think of him.
He taught me so much. He scolded me once for crying. That was the only time he ever did. He said I was an angel even when I was a rebellious teen. I would say that I loved him but I must say that I love him. I love him now even though he isn't here any more. He lives in my memories and in my heart. He is there now. My love for him is there. His love for me is there too. He was patient, wise, kind, and funny. He always had a story about "when he was a little girl.." He read the funny pages every day and if you stopped by he'd show them to you. He loved Snoopy and Calvin and Hobbes. I can still hear him say: "What's old Snoop up to today?" as he rattled the paper. He was one of a kind and I will always remember him with tears and a smile.
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