Grandpa Joe
Today would have been my Grandfather’s birthday. He died a little over two years ago. While, I do indeed miss him I choose today to celebrate his life, not morn the loss of it.
The art of small talk (or shooting the shit as my Grandfather used to say) is lost on most people. I learned from the master. My grandfather was a truck driver and he never met a stranger in his life. He was sent off to WWII and made friends with a Japanese family while in Japan. You know the people who he was supposed to be fighting. He would invite strangers he just met at the local truck stop over to Thanksgiving dinner and to his daughters wedding. People loved talking to him and he loved nothing more than sitting around in a diner or a Mc Donald’s drinking coffee and shooting the shit.
As a young boy I would go with my Grandfather to these places and sit there for hours listening to him and his cronies talk and talk. Not knowing these people and being much younger I just sat back and listened. I found it fascinating and I learned a lot. My grandfather did not see people as strangers. He was everyone’s friend; they just didn’t know it yet.
The greatest example of this was on a trip to Ohio. My dad currently lives in Columbus, Ohio. One summer we all went down for a visit. Located near my dad’s house was a local grease pit truck stop called the Waffle House. My Grandfather was drawn to diners and truck stops like, Julia Roberts is to bad scripts. We arrived on a Friday. On that Sunday, we all decided to join him for breakfast at the Waffle House. He walked in and everyone in the place perked up. All calling him by his first name like they had known him all of their lives. My grandfather had that special and rare ability to connect with people. If my Grandfather taught me one thing it was to treat people like you’ve known them for years. In my profession this lesson has helped me to connect with people.
I was my Grandfathers first grandchild. So, obviously he doted on me. He carried around pictures of all eight of grandchildren in his wallet and would proudly display our pictures to anyone who showed the slightest interest. One night back when I was still in my teens as I often was, I was at a party. A girl I had never met walked up to me and asked me if my Grandfather’s name was Joe. I said, yes and she told me that she worked at McDonalds in Burbank and one day my Grand Dad came in and started talking with her. He had showed her a picture of me. This started a conversation and you can take it from there. My Grandfather was helping me with the ladies now, and he didn’t even know it.
That was the beauty of my Grandfather. He saw the world through rose-colored glasses. Sure, he was from the old county and set in his ways. He ate every meal with a piece of bread in his left hand and expected a home cooked meal when he came home from work. It wasn’t until I was older that I found myself really appreciating him and realizing how lucky I was to get to know him. I had my Grandfather in my life for thirty-three years. He is my link to another generation. I am just so proud and privileged to have had in my life for as long as I did. I only hope I can live up to the standard that he set.
The art of small talk (or shooting the shit as my Grandfather used to say) is lost on most people. I learned from the master. My grandfather was a truck driver and he never met a stranger in his life. He was sent off to WWII and made friends with a Japanese family while in Japan. You know the people who he was supposed to be fighting. He would invite strangers he just met at the local truck stop over to Thanksgiving dinner and to his daughters wedding. People loved talking to him and he loved nothing more than sitting around in a diner or a Mc Donald’s drinking coffee and shooting the shit.
As a young boy I would go with my Grandfather to these places and sit there for hours listening to him and his cronies talk and talk. Not knowing these people and being much younger I just sat back and listened. I found it fascinating and I learned a lot. My grandfather did not see people as strangers. He was everyone’s friend; they just didn’t know it yet.
The greatest example of this was on a trip to Ohio. My dad currently lives in Columbus, Ohio. One summer we all went down for a visit. Located near my dad’s house was a local grease pit truck stop called the Waffle House. My Grandfather was drawn to diners and truck stops like, Julia Roberts is to bad scripts. We arrived on a Friday. On that Sunday, we all decided to join him for breakfast at the Waffle House. He walked in and everyone in the place perked up. All calling him by his first name like they had known him all of their lives. My grandfather had that special and rare ability to connect with people. If my Grandfather taught me one thing it was to treat people like you’ve known them for years. In my profession this lesson has helped me to connect with people.
I was my Grandfathers first grandchild. So, obviously he doted on me. He carried around pictures of all eight of grandchildren in his wallet and would proudly display our pictures to anyone who showed the slightest interest. One night back when I was still in my teens as I often was, I was at a party. A girl I had never met walked up to me and asked me if my Grandfather’s name was Joe. I said, yes and she told me that she worked at McDonalds in Burbank and one day my Grand Dad came in and started talking with her. He had showed her a picture of me. This started a conversation and you can take it from there. My Grandfather was helping me with the ladies now, and he didn’t even know it.
That was the beauty of my Grandfather. He saw the world through rose-colored glasses. Sure, he was from the old county and set in his ways. He ate every meal with a piece of bread in his left hand and expected a home cooked meal when he came home from work. It wasn’t until I was older that I found myself really appreciating him and realizing how lucky I was to get to know him. I had my Grandfather in my life for thirty-three years. He is my link to another generation. I am just so proud and privileged to have had in my life for as long as I did. I only hope I can live up to the standard that he set.
posted by 10withmop at 9:25 AM
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