I Respected Grandpa Dan
Grandpa Dan 1921-2005
I never though of Dan as my grandfather. No more than I think of my father-in-law as an actual father. I already have a father and grandfather, and I’m not looking to trade, or even pinch hit.
I never saw him as a grandparent, but man, I liked talking to Dan. I’m usually a pretty impatient man. I like to do a most of the talking in a conversation, like to make sure my voice is always heard.
And there’s plenty of old people I don’t have any respect for. More people than not are stupid and don’t learn from their mistakes, so why should we assume everyone older than us is wiser? Age is no real marker of anything but time. Dopes are still dopes. You want my attention, on a REAL level, you have to earn it. Do that, and I’m in your court forever. Don’t, and I got no time.
But with Dan, I was content to shut up and listen. Dan was still sharp at 84. Oh, he was frail of body, but his mind was still honed. And all a sharp old man wants you to do is listen, because he’s got a lot to tell you, and he knows he doesn’t have forever to tell it. He may ramble in the telling, but so long as you only interrupt enough to show him you’re paying attention and to keep him on track, he’ll talk for hours.
“Trapped forever next to the old guy telling stories,” was always synonymous with Hell to me, until I met Dan. With him, for the first time, I <i>wanted</i> to listen.
To listen about going to college in the early 40’s, knowing you were going off to fight the hun as soon as you graduated because you joined the ROTC to help pay tuition. To hear about getting your diploma and your orders to ship out on the same day. To have your college sweetheart marry you and follow you from base to base, carrying your children while you jogged next to tanks on the other side of the ocean.
He told stories of the war, always humble, making it clear that just cause or not, he and everyone else he knew were just trying to do their job and stay alive. No one was there for glory, to hear Dan tell it, and that makes me feel a little better about my fellow man.
Endless stories about coming home and building a life, about this decade and that. Raising two kids, having 5 grandkids, seeing his great-grandson born.
He spoke from the heart, and had little patience for bullshit, commiserating to me whenever his daughter treated him and his wife like children. He could talk current events with you, but he gave a very different perspective, and eventually, he would be back to talking about things that happened when my father was in diapers, or before.
But I didn’t mind.
Thanks, Dan, for telling me all that stuff while there was still time. I’ll try and pass as much of it on as I can.