Everything I Need to Know I Learned From My Granddaddy

Some things should be taught in schools. Some things are taught only by grandfathers, and boy, did mine teach me some valuable life lessons....

Your family matters.

"I wouldn't take a plug nickel for her." I didn't know what a plug nickel was, but it sure sounded valuable. My Grandaddy made me feel important. He would take me places and proudly tell anyone who would listen that I belonged to him. Regardless of the fact I was an illegitimate child of his only daughter, and everyone in that small town knew it, he was not ashamed of me. I always felt a little taller when I was with him.

Children are people, too.

After Grandaddy retired from the paper mill, he was only 52, so he took a part-time job at the local Highway Patrol office as a janitor/maintenance man. If Granny and Mama were working, he took me with him to work. I was under his feet; I was in his lap; I was holding his hand; I was asking questions. Never once did he get aggravated. Instead, he shared his coworkers and friends with me. He taught me how things work. He answered all my questions. He taught me that children have a real place of importance in the world.

A nap a day keeps the doctor away.

If Granddaddy was home during the day, he always took time for an afternoon nap. He let me crawl up in his lap and hold me in his chair until we both fell asleep. He taught me that sometimes rest is crucial to gain strength for the journey.   
 

Kindness matters.

Granddaddy was genuinely nice, and everybody loved being around him. When he was talking to others, I remember how he would always ask about them first. He knew that to have a real relationship, you had to care more about others than you did yourself. He treated everyone the same, from secretaries to state troopers to mayors and garbage men. His sweet spirit was contagious; I remember the smiles and laughter he always drew out of others.

Bad things happen to good people.

I stayed every day with my Granny and Granddaddy when I was little. One day, we were all working in the garden, and Granddaddy decided to go inside the garage to mix up some bug spray for the garden. As usual, he rarely went anywhere without me being his shadow, so I followed him. I watched as he put the insecticide solution in the metal can and screwed the lid with a built-in handle pump back on the container. As he leaned over and began pumping to mix up the solution and get it ready to spray out of the attached hose, the pressure started to build inside the can. Granddaddy unknowingly pumped one too many times, and suddenly, the metal lid violently exploded upwards, hitting him in the jaw and knocking him backward and immediately unconscious.
 

I was only four years old. 

I was standing two feet away, and I remember the blood was everywhere.

I remember his glasses lying on the ground near his head.

I remember crying uncontrollably and not knowing what else to do because I was in shock, so I just stayed by his side.

What seemed like an eternity later (although it was only several minutes), he came to and whispered through his bloody mouth, "Go get Mary." I turned and ran as fast as I could out to the garden where Granny was still working. She must have seen my terror and wasted no time getting back to him and calling the ambulance. Granddaddy lost several teeth and broke his jaw that day.
 

About a week later, he returned from the hospital, and I was scared to go near him. He looked different. His jaw was wired shut. His face was swollen. He finally convinced me that he was still my Granddaddy, and I ran to his open arms and let him hold me. He taught me bad things can happen, but not only does the human body heal from trauma, but so does the human spirit.

It's okay to be different.

As a child, I was a tomboy through and through. My Granny wanted me to be prissy, put on dresses, and play with dolls much more than I did. Year after year, I asked for a toy truck and a race track for Christmas. Instead, I got dolls, socks, and underwear.

A few weeks after my fifth Christmas, Granddaddy called me down to his house and said he had a surprise for me. He had made with his own hands and scrap wood--a toy truck for me! It was the most beautiful toy I had ever seen. It had wooden wheels that really turned, a spacious cab, and a long bed perfect for hauling my daily nature finds. Granddaddy didn't care that I liked "boy" toys; he always encouraged me to be Me.

To this day, it is my most treasured Christmas present. When I had my own children, I begrudgingly let them play with it, knowing that Granddaddy would have wanted me to share and that he would love knowing how much they enjoyed it. 

My children and grandchildren have used it to haul their favorite farm and jungle animals from room to room. It is a testament to the quality and durability of that handmade truck, some forty-five years later. 

 

Never leave a man behind.

As a single mom, I once took my kiddos to see my grandparents in Clyde, North Carolina, as often as possible. While visiting one summer, my then seven-year-old son Connor was playing on a local playground and fell from the monkey bars and broke his arm. We rushed him to the emergency room, and as is the case with most ERs, he had to wait an excruciatingly long time for his arm to be set. Knowing they could do nothing but wait, my sisters and Granny decided to go home and come back and get me when we were done.

When the doctors sent me out of the exam room some two hours later to set Connor's broken arm, I walked into the waiting room to find that someone had decided to stay. My Granddaddy offered his handkerchief and his strong shoulder for me to cry on as I listened to my little boy screaming in pain in the room next door. When we finally got Connor back home and settled in, I heard Granddaddy scolding every family member for leaving me alone at the ER. I still have the handkerchief he gave me that day. It reminds me that being strong for someone during a crisis is a beautiful gift.

Tobacco barns smell divine.

Okay, so this is not a life lesson, but it is one of my most memorable smells of childhood. Do you have smell memories? Well, I do, and I remember going with Granddaddy up to the tobacco barn on the side of the mountain where we lived to check on the drying tobacco leaves. Granddaddy farmed tobacco as another form of income. In the NC mountains, tobacco farming is a staple crop of the state. The barn was dark and damp, but the sweet smell of tobacco permeated my senses when I walked in. I remember staring up at the huge leaves draped over the beams, reflecting the sun shining through the purposely separated slats in the barn walls. Did I mention how great it smelled in there?

As old as I am, I miss my Granddaddy with an ache that is deeper than words, but I feel his 'ministering spirit' around me, and I live by his life lessons every single day. . .

"Are not the angels all ministering spirits sent out in the service of God for the assistance of those who are to inherit salvation?" Hebrews 1:14