Friday, June 11, 2004

my very own alcoholic...

My grandfather's name was Frank. He was a rough lookin' old cuss and he was an alcoholic. To be kind we usually say that he was ornery, but most often he was just mean.

Not too long ago I was sitting around with my brother and sister and the topic of my grandfather's family came up. My nephew told us that the thing he remembered was how he was held over a hot floor furnace grate. It is a shared experience; family hazing.

It was hard loving my grandfather. It was always an unmentioned dare that he threw out there. I remember riding down the country roads in his old green Ford pickup as we went to feed his horses. He would threaten to run off of the road or hit a bridge and then in the knick of time pull back onto the road. You could see the sheer delight on his face as we recovered from the terror.

One summer he injured is forearm while on the job. It was cut deeply and wrapped in bandages. As we picnicked in the backyard, he slowly sipped away his pain. I was about ten years old and behaving exactly the way any ten-year-old should in the heat of the summer, dancing around and chasing butterflies. He tried to launch himself out of the rickety old lawn chair chaise and stumbled back. His arm and I collided and as he stomped around the barrage of cursing flowed freely. I remember that he called me a "little mother f*cker". No one flinched, no one came to my defense. I'm not sure why, but I felt much shame. I remember sliding to the side of the house and hiding, hoping someone would come and find me and protect me.

I was an adult with children when my grandfather died. He wasted away from cancer and meanness.

My father is an amazing man. I watched as he took care of my grandfather as he grew old. I watched him attend to him when he was sick and I watched him graciously attend to burying his father. He is truly a picture of a redeemed heritage and made choices to father differently than he was fathered.

"Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one's courage" Anais Nin

My dad's not perfect, but he was brave enough to do life differently. For that his children and his grandchildren are blessed.

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