This was a very long week. Sunday through Tuesday alone seemed like an eternity. I got home Sunday afternoon and left almost immediately for my aunt's house (the aunt who took care of my Grandpa) to put together some pictures for the calling hours and memorial service. Monday was the calling hours, preceded by a dinner. That was a long three hours. Especially in heels (stupid! stupid! stupid!). And especially because of all the offering of sympathy. I appreciate the sentiment, but each time I heard "You have my sympathy," it was like being emotionally drained all over again. And then there was the writing of the eulogy. And the delivery of the eulogy. And sobbing through the eulogy. It was kind of nice to see my dad's side of the family, especially since they were all getting along. But I'm unbelievably glad it's all over.
I did learn some interesting things about my dad, though. For instance, he and his brother Merle once had trouble getting one of the cows to cross the road. So they got the pickup, and one of them drove while the other stood in the back with a lasso. My cousin Beth theorized that they may have watched a little too much Lone Ranger. Interestingly enough, they don't seem to be clear about who did the driving and who did the lassoing.
Thursday, February 17, 2005
Tuesday, February 15, 2005
Memories of Grandpa
It is almost impossible to think about Grandpa Sommers without also thinking of his love for animals. The earliest memory I have of him is visiting the farmhouse on Saturday mornings. If he wasn’t outside tending to matters on the farm, we would find him upstairs in the living room, always in the same brown chair. Without fail, the first thing he would ask me was “How’s Charlie?” referring to the family dog. And I would tell him she was fine, and then we could sit down and get along with the rest of the visit. As the years went on and a procession of pets came and went, the question would change to “How are the kitties?” or “How’s Abby?” but it was always asked.
One of the more famous stories in circulation about Grandpa involves a neighbor’s dog by the name of Sport that had a habit of coming by the farmhouse to visit. Grandpa would try tirelessly to convince the stubborn dog to go home where it belonged. Then one day he reasoned that, since the dog’s owners were Amish, perhaps it would respond better to Pennsylvania Dutch. So, instead of the usual “Sport, go home,” he said, “Sport, geh heim.” And surprisingly enough, Sport did, indeed, go home.
Grandpa was also quite fond of the cats that settled in and multiplied in the barn and various other structures on the farm. When the weather was warm, he would sit out on the wooden bench on the back porch and watch the kittens frolic on the blacktop. He wasn’t always just a casual observer, though. He would pet the more friendly ones that came up to him, or, more often, he would flick a string or a piece of baler’s twine around and watch them flip through the air. He always had a smile on his face when he played with the cats, and he didn’t forget about them when he moved away from the farmhouse. Just last week, he reminded Uncle Merle to make sure the cats got fed.
Grandpa’s love for animals was not just limited to creatures that could be found in Millersberg, however. He enjoyed trips to the Columbus Zoo and Sea World with the same delight on his face as when he played with the cats. Sea World in particular left an impression on him. The last time he went, about ten years ago, my mother took some pictures of him watching the dolphins and laughing, his mouth wide open in amazement. He was so enraptured that he had no idea his picture was being taken or that my parents and I were talking about how much he was enjoying watching the dolphins.
Perhaps Grandpa was so fascinated with the dolphins because he’d always loved the water. He had a swimming pool put into the yard and took up waterskiing in the late 1950s. I can remember summer day trips to Tappan Lake to go out on the pontoon boat and watch Grandpa and other relatives water-ski. I was amazed by how fearless he was. He seemed to subscribe to the adage that “you’re only as old as you feel,” because he kept waterskiing until he was 84. Even then he continued to swim laps at the local health club, a place that he became so familiar with that he recorded the dimensions of the pool in one of his notebooks, along with the temperature at the center of the sun and the gas milage he got driving to Orrville.
Although Grandpa was quiet and thoughtful, and no one I’ve talked to can remember him ever becoming angry, he did have an ornery streak. His pranks usually centered around electronics; some of the stories in circulation involve electric fences, live wires, and ignition coils. When he owned Millersburg Storage Battery, an auto repair shop, the occupants of a neighboring business had a tendency to play their AM radio a little too loudly for his preference. When it got particularly loud, he would hook up an ignition coil so it would spark and create a significant amount of static on the radio. The owners of the radio were always quick to turn the volume down when the signal degraded into a loud buzz.
His antics may have irritated one or two people, but there are probably few people around the local area who haven’t had a battery charged, a television or radio fixed, a tv antenna put up or repaired, or otherwise been exposed to Grandpa’s kindness and generosity. He had many friends, as evidenced by the turnout at last night’s calling hours, and he will surely be missed.
One of the more famous stories in circulation about Grandpa involves a neighbor’s dog by the name of Sport that had a habit of coming by the farmhouse to visit. Grandpa would try tirelessly to convince the stubborn dog to go home where it belonged. Then one day he reasoned that, since the dog’s owners were Amish, perhaps it would respond better to Pennsylvania Dutch. So, instead of the usual “Sport, go home,” he said, “Sport, geh heim.” And surprisingly enough, Sport did, indeed, go home.
Grandpa was also quite fond of the cats that settled in and multiplied in the barn and various other structures on the farm. When the weather was warm, he would sit out on the wooden bench on the back porch and watch the kittens frolic on the blacktop. He wasn’t always just a casual observer, though. He would pet the more friendly ones that came up to him, or, more often, he would flick a string or a piece of baler’s twine around and watch them flip through the air. He always had a smile on his face when he played with the cats, and he didn’t forget about them when he moved away from the farmhouse. Just last week, he reminded Uncle Merle to make sure the cats got fed.
Grandpa’s love for animals was not just limited to creatures that could be found in Millersberg, however. He enjoyed trips to the Columbus Zoo and Sea World with the same delight on his face as when he played with the cats. Sea World in particular left an impression on him. The last time he went, about ten years ago, my mother took some pictures of him watching the dolphins and laughing, his mouth wide open in amazement. He was so enraptured that he had no idea his picture was being taken or that my parents and I were talking about how much he was enjoying watching the dolphins.
Perhaps Grandpa was so fascinated with the dolphins because he’d always loved the water. He had a swimming pool put into the yard and took up waterskiing in the late 1950s. I can remember summer day trips to Tappan Lake to go out on the pontoon boat and watch Grandpa and other relatives water-ski. I was amazed by how fearless he was. He seemed to subscribe to the adage that “you’re only as old as you feel,” because he kept waterskiing until he was 84. Even then he continued to swim laps at the local health club, a place that he became so familiar with that he recorded the dimensions of the pool in one of his notebooks, along with the temperature at the center of the sun and the gas milage he got driving to Orrville.
Although Grandpa was quiet and thoughtful, and no one I’ve talked to can remember him ever becoming angry, he did have an ornery streak. His pranks usually centered around electronics; some of the stories in circulation involve electric fences, live wires, and ignition coils. When he owned Millersburg Storage Battery, an auto repair shop, the occupants of a neighboring business had a tendency to play their AM radio a little too loudly for his preference. When it got particularly loud, he would hook up an ignition coil so it would spark and create a significant amount of static on the radio. The owners of the radio were always quick to turn the volume down when the signal degraded into a loud buzz.
His antics may have irritated one or two people, but there are probably few people around the local area who haven’t had a battery charged, a television or radio fixed, a tv antenna put up or repaired, or otherwise been exposed to Grandpa’s kindness and generosity. He had many friends, as evidenced by the turnout at last night’s calling hours, and he will surely be missed.
Saturday, February 12, 2005
Thoughtful Cliche about Death Goes Here
My grandfather died yesterday. It wasn't wholly unexpected, because he had pneumonia, but the general consensus was that he was starting to get better. My aunt thinks he just gave up. He was in the hospital for a while, and then he was supposed to be in a nursing home for a week or two, but he was so miserable that my aunt brought him home after a couple days. So at least he died in his own bed, and he wasn't sick for that long.
I didn't get home to see him this Christmas because of the flooding, and now I regret that, of course. But like my friend Jess said, hindsight is 20/20. He wasn't even sick then. But I've had this feeling that it was going to happen for a couple months, and not just because he was 97, and I should have listened to it.
There's a picture of me sitting on his lap when I was about for. We were at Sea World, and I was wearing a cute little hat with a frilly brim that had Dolly the Dolphin on it and a Papa Smurf necklace. We're both laughing. I remember that day, and I remember being really happy. I think he was pretty happy that day too.
I didn't get home to see him this Christmas because of the flooding, and now I regret that, of course. But like my friend Jess said, hindsight is 20/20. He wasn't even sick then. But I've had this feeling that it was going to happen for a couple months, and not just because he was 97, and I should have listened to it.
There's a picture of me sitting on his lap when I was about for. We were at Sea World, and I was wearing a cute little hat with a frilly brim that had Dolly the Dolphin on it and a Papa Smurf necklace. We're both laughing. I remember that day, and I remember being really happy. I think he was pretty happy that day too.
Wednesday, February 09, 2005
I don't like Mondays...or Tuesdays...
But I won't be opening fire on any high schools.
This is turning into one of those weeks that makes me think I should retreat into my bed and not emerge until at least Thursday. Bad (but well-deserved) critiques, a hospitalized grandfather, and a visit to the gynegologist with more repurcussions than just an unpleasant 10 minutes are quite enough negativity in my week. And it's only Tuesday.
But I do have an application for a job that could get me out of the country next year in my hands now, so that's a plus.
This is turning into one of those weeks that makes me think I should retreat into my bed and not emerge until at least Thursday. Bad (but well-deserved) critiques, a hospitalized grandfather, and a visit to the gynegologist with more repurcussions than just an unpleasant 10 minutes are quite enough negativity in my week. And it's only Tuesday.
But I do have an application for a job that could get me out of the country next year in my hands now, so that's a plus.
Thursday, February 03, 2005
Stacks
I now have two stacks of books beside my bookshelves (they won't even begin to fit on the shelves, which have books stacked in two rows and stuffed vertically in available crevices) which I will have to read before August. And they're not even the extent of what I will have to read; they're actually only about half of the total list. So I get the feeling that I'm screwed with the whole thesis thing. Fifty books, at least 180 pages of a novel, and three more months with David Schloss stand between me and graduation. Things are not looking up.
On the up side, I received a drunken dial this afternoon all the way from Vietnam (it was about 1 a.m. there, I think), where I will hopefully be situated this fall. I hope, I hope, I hope. America be damned, I want to get as far away as possible
On the up side, I received a drunken dial this afternoon all the way from Vietnam (it was about 1 a.m. there, I think), where I will hopefully be situated this fall. I hope, I hope, I hope. America be damned, I want to get as far away as possible
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