Granddad. The Master Carpenter.
I wrote this 11 years ago.
As I get older I remember times and places that meant the most to me. Events that really shaped and changed me (for good or bad) to the person I am and the person I am evolving into today. One event was the last time I spoke to my Grandfather.
I am a father of a healthy and wonderful eight year old. Not having a Father growing up, my “father figures” were all based on television and movies. George Jefferson, James Evans Sr., Archie Bunker, Heathcliff Huxtable, Andy Griffin, Fred “G” Sanford, Darth Vader, and Captain James Kirk were among those I learned “fatherly” lessons from as a child. For good or bad (Bunker and Jefferson showed me in many ways what I didn’t want to be as a Father, even if it was funny to watch), I learned from these gentlemen and others.
Not to say I didn’t have father figures in my life. I just didn’t see it at the moment and the two that stand out were my Uncle Gary and my Grandfather, Howard Heard Sr. The lessons I learned from these two gentlemen would help me years/decades later in nearly part of my life. The greatest lessons were the things NOT spoken, what they did and how they carried themselves as men in this world. My Uncle learned to tap into his “Greater Him” and how that lead with his journey to being who is and being at peace with himself. Before I learned about “Mindfulness” and “Being in the Moment” at work, I learned this from my Uncle. Taking the metaphors and lessons from Science Fiction (“Do or Do Not, There is No Try”) and making me memorize “If you do good, you get good. If you do bad, you get bad” are things I carry on to this day.
My Grandfather always stood tall and was the man of the house. No, it doesn’t mean my Grandmother was “subservient” to him or didn’t have a voice in the home. But he worked hard and made sure the family was never in need. He provided love and sometimes it was tough, but it was fair. While I was a good boy around him, I wanted zero parts of my Grandfather’s spankings. He told me flat out that if he came home and my toys were in the walkway, they would get stepped on and destroyed. When it happened, poor Scrap Iron, I couldn’t get upset or anything, I accepted it and moved on. He spoke to you in an easy going manner, yet was very direct and didn’t play passive aggressive games that some men today do. At times it came off as very stern and it may have rubbed people the wrong way, however there was no mistaking him and what he meant.
With as stern as he came across, he was a loving husband, father, and grandfather. He put the needs of his children and their children first. Even when they may not have done right or what you'd like them to do, that's when you should help the most. Back then I knew of the things going on in my family, I am pretty darn smart, and yet I saw my Grandparents help out whenever and however they could. I remember him “chastising me” over sitting in his chair (but really, DON'T sit in his recliner!) and laughing at me and my “Space Men.” I was a child that believed in Superheroes and Science Fiction. I had no real interest in sports or stereotypical “boy stuff.” I can not recall a time when Grandpa or Grandma EVER made me feel bad about it. I'd try to watch his favorite types of movies, but I couldn't get into Westerns. They were “old” and there was no real action. Decades later I found myself watching a marathon of Westerns (“The Outlaw Josie Wales” was a favorite of mine, however Clint’s political junk mess that up) and wishing I could have seen how awesome they were and sat with my Grandfather watching them more attentively. Now when I watch I imagine him next to me, cheering on the good fight.
I don't remember the exact moment when I found out my Grandfather was ill. At this point I was a teenager who was “living it up.” I was all over town and hanging out, the once fun and amazing spot became the place I'd drop in on every so often. I still enjoyed their company, but as a teenager I suppose I was “too cool” to spend the night like I did as a kid. I do recall my Mom telling me he was sick, but not going too far in detail. The one thing my Mother did was protect me from various things. Some for good and for bad, Mom's overprotective nature may have been one of the biggest reasons I'm still here. However in this case I think she didn't want me to become overly distraught.
When she told me I was very heartbroken. I didn't know what to say or do. I didn't know how to address it or what questions to ask. She told me that he would be returning home from the hospital and I should see him. I haven't seen him in awhile and didn't know how bad it was, so I made plans to see him on my day off the next day after I took care of a few things. At that time I only knew of two people who had cancer and died from it, a close friend of my Mom and I saw how that impacted her back then and my then best friend's Grandfather. I had a lot of questions and got answers to most of them, save the question I didn't want to ask. “Was Grandpa going to be ok?”
At that time I was very heavy into music. It's always been a staple in my teens, but with new found disposable income, I was able to go out and experiment with new genres and artists. This was the time I was very eclectic with my music and loved to pop in one CD and go from genre to genre; the new flavor was “Alternative” or “Grunge Music.” Nirvana, Soundgarden, Stone Temple Pilots and the like were in rotation as were Ice Cube, Cypress Hill, Prince, and Public Enemy. I became a fan of Nirvana from it “Smells Like Teen Spirit.” To be honest, some of what Kurt Cobain was singing was a mystery to me. It felt like awesome ramblings, the music drew me in and kept me around. “In Utero” was an album that I kept in my Discman and jammed too on the daily.
I was out the door pretty early and with a reminder from my Mother to stop down The House. I can't recall every stop I made, I paid some bills (my pager was always on the hip) and I know I picked up a new shirt (I believe it was my Beavis and Butthead shirt I wore until it was full of holes). Something led me downtown, maybe Geppi's Comic World was still there, but I know at some point I put in the disc and hopped on the number five bus. It was still tons of daylight out and I knew later than night I was going to hang around my friends. Best to do it and have that time to myself right?
As far as bus rides it was pretty uneventful. Unlike what you read and hear about now as far as fights and such, the most I dealt with on the MTA bus or trains at the time were crowds and people being too loud. That's the reason I always and I mean ALWAYS carried my Discman. I was never without it because I can't stand to hear people talk. To this day my music is always with me. A healthy mix of seeing Baltimore and daydreaming, the ride to my Grandparent's house was a smooth ride. I do remember a young lady, about my age at the time, she had a septum piercing. I thought it was cool because at that point I never saw a woman of color with one. I wanted to sit next to her and pick her brain and learn more about her, but my shyness kept me in my seat. I gave her mental high fives when she brushed off looks she received from people. I admired that bravery to be who you are. So where you are Miss, I still salute you.
My stop came and I got off the bus. I've been around Pulaski Street recently, but more just hopping out my Mom's car and straight to my Grandparent's house. Everything was the same, but different. I knew some people and a few flagged me down, but there were people I didn't know. Still kids running around, but now some had designs on doing things I would never had thought of at the time. I went to the corner store, and a new group of people owned it. I didn't get the usual greeting, I was a regular in the 80s and early 90s, but I still picked up my juice all the same. It was all the same, but so different.
Just as I walked up the marble steps, “All Apologies” was ending. I thought it was a pretty slick how when I rang the bell the song ended. I took off my headphones and my cousin Tia opened the door. It was awhile since I saw her and we greeted each other like no time had past with us. Walking in I spoke and hugged everyone. There were more people than I expected and it caught me off guard a bit. I gave my Grandmother time and we talked about how everything was going. Not seeing it then, she was very guarded on how things were REALLY going on. Either way it was good to be there and feel the warmth I missed at 905. Everything was just like it was, even Granddad's seat was empty. No one was sitting there, as it should be.
I made my way up the steps and turned to the first door on the left. I lightly knocked on the door and saw my Grandfather lying down. I was taken back for a second. This wasn't the mountain of a man that I was used to seeing. He still carried his presence and aura, however was smaller in size. His features were a bit shrunken in, but I could see in his eyes. He was there and happy to see me. I gave him a hug and sat on the side of the bed. He asked me how I was and I told him all what was going on in my life. He listened and laughed a bit with a few things I said. I asked him what was going on and he told me all he wanted me to know; he was sick, but happy to be home.
Grandpa then started giving me advice on various things. Money, women, family, and various other things. Nothing heavy handed, no biases or anything, but general advice on life. At the time, I didn't see how amazing this moment was. I was so focused on my Grandfather's moral shell, I didn't truly absorb the Blessing his Spirit was giving me. It would be years before I could start truly digesting this true SOUL FOOD into my system. He spoke from the heart and meant every word he said. I listened and nodded, my eyes never left him even when I wanted to cry.
“Be good and stay away from them bad boys.”
That always stuck out. The “bad boys” were clearly cats who were doing dirt in the neighborhood and city. Not that I was into that, but his message was clear. Don't go near and stay away. Either to join in or more importantly my personal safety. He saw me as a young man, just he still gave me the warmth and comfort he did when I was a child. The respect he gave me while addressing me was huge and made me feel like I was as close to being seen as an adult than I have been in some time. It may have taken so much energy for him to talk to me, but he did without a complaint or showing signs of pain or distress.
I gave him my final hug and went down the stairs, I didn't have much to say after that. I made small talk and shared a laugh or two, but that upstairs wore me out. My Mother came down and after some time we went back home. I'm not sure if I finally cried in the car or when I went to my room, but the release of energy was pretty big. I didn't go out that night, I stayed home and read comics and listened to music. Maybe I should have been around people, but I needed that time to myself and gather my thoughts.
Soon after my Grandfather was gone. It was warm in the Spring, I didn't feel sad or anything, I was happy he wasn't suffering. Suffering with illness is what hurts me the most. The funeral was good, as far as funerals go, not that I judge or even like going to them. I think I've only been to maybe five or six funerals in my life, that is by design. My Grandfather's funeral was “good,” not sure what that means. When I saw a large group of people from the Native American/First Nation side of my Grandfather's family. I wish I had talked to them more and gotten their contact information. It would have been amazing to explore that side of my family's history.
Weeks later I was out and about again and I started listening to “In Utero” & “All Apologies” and I felt good. Not just because I was listening to a great album. This was the last thing I listened to before talking to my Grandfather. Since then listening to Nirvana brings out more good memories and cemented them in my musical rotation until the day I stop listening to music. When I have the Zune on shuffle and Nirvana comes up, I don't skip, it will always get a listen.
Now I'm a father and I'm using all the knowledge and wisdom I've picked up over the years with my son. As much as I think I know, there is so much I don't know. I'm smart enough to know that. When I have a question about Noah, life, things in general, I wish I could talk to him and get advice. I wish I could sit back and watch a Western, talk about the topics of the day, and work on a carpentry project with him. Mostly I want to introduce my Grandfather to my son. To see Noah and “Great Granddad” talk, laugh, play... That's what I want. For now I'll take comfort in knowing I'm sharing all the lessons from my “Fathers” and “Teachers.” And I know he would be proud of me. Thank you.