I have been thinking a lot of my grandfather lately. My kids didn't get a chance to know him like I did. So, I thought I would write about him. Pop was from Missouri. He met my grandmother at Fort Jackson. He left the states to fight in World War II. He spoke some of his days in the Army. He would tell a wonderful story of his encounter with General George Patton. One day, I'll try to write down that story. I miss hearing him tell it himself. Pop learned how to be a mechanic in the army and came back to SC to make a living. He also worked as a Sheriff's deputy for 42 years. Alzheimer's disease forced his retirement at age 72. It was a sad day for his Sheriff and department. His former Sheriff would be the one to give his eulogy.
One thing that sticks with my from my childhood with a grandfather like this was his smile. His face would light up every time he saw me. He always had a few moments to give me. He always had his ball glove ready. He always had a mountain dew waiting for me at his shop. Oh yes, his shop. He ran the local garage in small town America. He worked there from about 8am until 3pm. He then went home to take a bath and go to work at his other full time job. He then worked 4pm until midnight in a rural South Carolina county. Now, we are talking about a deputy working a rural SC county during segregation then integration. I never once heard him denigrate any person of color. In fact, I never heard him denigrate anyone. He was also the only deputy to have an African-American partner. I learned from him to treat everybody with respect and dignity.
Pop was also the fire chief at the volunteer fire department. I would hear him get up in the middle of the night to answer the phone, and head out the door. He embodied serving others. He worked all hours, all shifts. The only day he insisted on having off was his birthday. He would say that it was a national holiday as far as he was concerned. Pop worked very, very hard. And he did it without a single complaint. He was proud to be able to provide for his family, and serve his community.
I miss my grandfather greatly. The older I get, the more I recognize the impact he had on my life. He still impacts me. I tell my kids stories of a man who quit school at age 15 to support his mom. He worked his entire life so that his kids, grand kids and great grand kids could have it better than he did. He took his lot in life, and made it better for those around him. For that, I am forever grateful.
