My oldest memory of Grandpa was watching him flip pancakes as he was preparing breakfast when I was little. No one else ever remembered this incident, but the memory is mine and I’m keeping it.
A few years later, predating yellow “Baby on Board” medallions, Grandma would ask Grandpa to drive carefully as Eric and I were valuable passengers. Grandpa would remark that he thought that he was a valuable driver and he was not sure what to do differently. Years later, with roles reversed, I was driving Grandpa when the tires squeaked on the pavement. I said, “I think we were on two wheels back there.” Grandpa looked back at me with pride.
I remember playing shuffleboard with Grandpa in Florida. He was a shuffleboard shark and was beating me pretty soundly despite Grandma’s insistent pleas to let me win. I tried to assure Grandma that I was secure enough in my 30s to be beaten by an old man in shuffleboard. Grandpa finally gave the stick to Grandma to finish the game, but he shrewdly waited until the lead was so great that not even Grandma could possibly score enough -10s to throw the game my way.
I remember watching Grandpa swallowing a handful of pills as is customary for people of his age. “Good drugs, Grandpa?” I wondered. “Only the best,” he assured me.
I first saw Grandpa buzzing along with a walker last year. As fast as he was going, it still seemed as if the walker were slowing him down. Grandpa conceded that he used it to reassure Grandma.
Grandpa often amazed me with his knowledge of the Internet and other aspects of technology. I don’t think he ever touched a computer, but he sure seemed up on the latest and was eager to follow me on my career exploits.
One of the highlights of my week every week was calling the Grands as I was doing my laundry. On one of my calls, Grandpa picked up the phone and announced, “Good afternoon,” in a very stately voice. I replied, “You can’t fool me Grandpa; it’s only morning here. You’re always trying to trick me!” Then, as at other times, he said, “oh, you’re a wise guy, aren’t you?” Eyes sparkling, he enjoyed playing in my world--and I in his.
Another routine began with him saying, “how are you young man?” Eyes sparkling, he would fake umbrage with my reply, “I’m great. How are you Old Man?” Then he would say, “no complaints.” When I would say, “How are things going, Big Guy,” he would humbly protest that he was not that big. Of course, he was a Big Guy to me. Additionally, I would call him on his birthday every year to ask if he had broken triple digits. “Not yet,” he would reply. I am going to miss our play time.
Grandpa enjoyed playing in my world even when he was tired. He struggled to stay awake to be with me as I imagine I did decades earlier with the roles reversed. This was evident when I saw him a few months ago on my return from Israel. I noticed (and appreciated) the effort that he was making to follow the stories of my latest adventures. He was concentrating so hard that he did not notice Grandma’s hand reaching out for his. “Grandpa, Grandma wants to hold your hand. That’s a good thing when girls want to hold your hand,” I assured him. Grandpa obliged and held Grandma’s hand.
I speak of my Grands so much that friends periodically ask me for the latest stories of them. At my recent birthday party, people asked Mom and Dad for stories just in case there were any that I had neglected to relay. I’m grateful that my Grands have so many fans.
When I spoke to Grandpa on Sunday, I could still hear the sparkle in his eyes, but even with the naive optimism through which I choose to view the world, I could tell he was running low on fuel and he had to hang up before I trapped my last wayward sock. For the last time I’ll say, “Good bye, Old Man. I love you.”
Todah for playing.
© Adam Brody. All rights reserved.
If you liked what you read above, then please consider a donation to the United Nations Association of the United States of America (UNA-USA), an organization for which Grandpa served as president.
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