[grandma and grandpa]
My grandpa was a poet like myself. I was quite young when He passed away, but what I do remember is him showing me how to shell peas, his postcard collection, and the little office where he connected with his friends via his two-way radio. He adored his Citizens band radio.
Grandpa D. was a man who loved to keep up on all that was going on, so he was affectionately known by his friends as “Uncle Jim.” I’m thinking that this was probably his CB’r “call sign” as a licence and a “call sign” in the form of a pseudonym were required in the early days of CB. (Citizens band radios became popular in the 1970’s.) He also enjoyed making recordings and write-ups to encourage those with handicaps. He used a lot of poetry, and wise sayings.
I can relate to my grandpa on so many levels. Sometimes I feel much closer to those who aren’t even in the land of the living. At times I feel as though I was born in the wrong era, though I know God doesn’t make mistakes. I suppose this is why I appreciate old things so much. (old books and antique items, older people are pretty great too.) I don’t have a lot of nostalgia around our home, but I do have a few things here and there which I appreciate for their beauty. As the saying goes they don’t make ’em like they used to.
Some things from the past are worth holding onto. I have the jewelry box that my great-grandpa made for my grandma. I like to store precious mementos in it: gifts, letters and cards from friends. See, I’m very much like my grandpa.
I was really teary yesterday, I was thinking of doing another “fight song” post, but I didn’t feel like being fighty. I guess sometimes it’s okay to just feel what your feeling, so I thought I’d think on something peaceful. My grandparents came to mind.
I absolutely love this photo. Everyone always looked so great in old photos. Well, victorian era photos can be a bit creepy in a ghostly kind of way. The lack of smiling doesn’t help. They were such a handsome couple don’t you think?
My grandma was a very cheerful sort. She was always laughing about something. I guess I’m like my grandma in that sense. It doesn’t take much to get a laugh out of me. Oh, and I’ve got her feistiness. When I make up my mind about something I don’t back down. I was her only granddaughter, so that made her one of my biggest fans.
I grew up with 3 brothers and 4 male cousins. I was accustomed to tagging along with the boys, though sometimes they’d try to exclude me from things because I was a girl. When one of my brother’s would give me a hard time I guess I would give it back. I remember my grandma laughing and saying that she loved my dry sense of humor. Is my sense of humor dry? When you’re the only girl, contending with three brothers and four wild cousins, you have to have a sober sense of humor.
My mom is the baby in this picture. She has an older sister (the little blond girl) and a brother.
My grandpa is the one standing on the far left of this photo.
His poetry is the good stuff. It gets me teary. He loved God, his family and his friends, and he was a thinker like myself. (Yep, I’m getting teary again.)
I think that’s it for now. I’m sure there’s much more that I could share, but you absolutely must read some of my grandpa’s poetry. It’s so worth it.
To My Good Friend, Dave
by my grandpa James D.
My destiny it is tonight
To sit with pensive brow
Beside my study fire
This verse I’m penning now
For each was preordained by fate
Since human life began
So are the little and the great
Linked in the life of man.
Each day I live to thank the Lord
I do the things I love
And in it find a rich reward
All price and praise above
For few may do the work they love
The fond unique employed
That fits them as a hand, a glove
And really gives them joy.
I’m just a mediocre man
Of no high-brow pretence
A comfortable life I plan
I do the things most people do
I echo what they do
And through the morning paper view
The problems of the day
I’m part of people I have known
And they are part of me
The seeds of thought that I have sown
In others minds I see
There’s some of me in all of them
And in all, there’s something of He.
Ramblings, By “Uncle Jim”
My Two Way Radio
by my grandpa James D.
How nice to have a radio, on a cold and blustery night
The magic of it’s static fills my heart with sweet delight
For While T.V. is O.K. and playing cards is fine
I’d sooner spend an evening on this old two way of mine.
I think of nights so long ago when I’d stay up real late
I didn’t have a radio so I heard no one go ten-eight
But things are very different now I really have a ball
Listening to my two way and waiting for a wall.
I know exactly who is home and who is out and why
The kind of rig he’s using and the kind he wouldn’t buy
I know when he is mobile, be it Jim, or Jack, or Joe
I’m up on all the going on, with my two way radio.
I know when there is trouble and I know when there is none
I wouldn’t part with this radio and miss out on all the fun.
So, when this world I leave behind and I am gone to heaven
Please bury me with my old two way, so to my friends, I can say
I get my grandpa. He was no mediocre man as he put it. He was definitely a high quality human. Yep, I’m crying again. Everytime…
(Title photo credit goes to Pixabay.com user Free-Photos)