Saturday, November 27, 2010


Yesterday would have been my grandpa's 73rd Birthday. He was my best friend. He taught me how to fish and grow things, but most of all, he taught me how to love. He was my perfect companion. He was ornery and coarse, but so gentle and kind. After his death, I started writing about him, and I really can't sum up my feelings about him in any better words than what I wrote a few years ago. So here goes.

They say a career makes a man, but it’s character. The kind of character that runs to the bone, radiates from a laugh, and penetrates the soul. That kind of character gets lost along the road of money, power and selfish desires. Few men are able to attain this kind of character, but when a man does, he finds himself loved above all else and capable of living a life and leaving a legacy that he can be proud of. He is not distracted by excess, corrupted by money, nor does he succumb to the overwhelming need for power. There existed such a man in my life, and he changed me. He caused me to believe in all men, that there is generosity, love and fierce devotion still left in the world. His story is one of hardship, as many are, but he was not broken by it, only made stronger. He was the kind of man who made you believe there were still those out there willing to die for those they love. He stood at the ready to give anything he had, even though he never had enough for himself. He was neither educated nor refined, yet he was the most intelligent man I have ever stumbled across.  I spent seventeen short years with this man, only a fraction of what some were granted, but those seventeen years were the best years of my life.

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