My grandfather taught me to dance by standing on his feet. When I was four or five, small enough that my little feet fit on top of his big ones, we’d dance to songs on the Lawrence Welk show in our TV room. I remember feeling so grown up. Afterwards, we’d tumble onto the couch and I’d snuggle up in his lap to watch the rest of the show.
Pops was an oasis in a home filled with sharp-tongued women. Every Thursday evening, he would bring my Nana over to spend the night at our house. On Fridays she got her hair done downtown. After work on Friday evening Pops would come to our house for Family Dinner. Then they’d go home. While with us, Nana talked incessantly. She gossiped, she was mean, she lived her life as it were a soap opera. It was widely acknowledged that my grandfather “couldn’t get a word in edgewise” living with my grandmother. When Pops had something to say, it was generally said thoughtfully and quietly. We listened.
Pops was the first in his family of 11 children to graduate from high school. He read voraciously. I listened to classical music at his house with him. He encouraged me to learn more about music, and he subscribed me to the entire set of Reader’s Digest Piano books, which were collections of songs from the 20th century by decade. He’d pull out his trumpet and we’d play together. Consequently, I know more about Cole Porter, Gershwin, and Rogers and Hammerstein than most people of my generation. I remember all the words to those old songs because my mother would come in and sing with us while we played. The joy of making music inspired me to become a professional musician.
Pops was an oasis in a home filled with sharp-tongued women. Every Thursday evening, he would bring my Nana over to spend the night at our house. On Fridays she got her hair done downtown. After work on Friday evening Pops would come to our house for Family Dinner. Then they’d go home. While with us, Nana talked incessantly. She gossiped, she was mean, she lived her life as it were a soap opera. It was widely acknowledged that my grandfather “couldn’t get a word in edgewise” living with my grandmother. When Pops had something to say, it was generally said thoughtfully and quietly. We listened.
Pops was the first in his family of 11 children to graduate from high school. He read voraciously. I listened to classical music at his house with him. He encouraged me to learn more about music, and he subscribed me to the entire set of Reader’s Digest Piano books, which were collections of songs from the 20th century by decade. He’d pull out his trumpet and we’d play together. Consequently, I know more about Cole Porter, Gershwin, and Rogers and Hammerstein than most people of my generation. I remember all the words to those old songs because my mother would come in and sing with us while we played. The joy of making music inspired me to become a professional musician.
My Well-worn Readers Digest Songbook collection
My grandfather was also extremely well-coordinated. He played baseball in high school. He was so good that he was recruited by a bank in New York City to play for their team and hired as a teller. From there, he was scouted by the New York Yankees, but he turned them down because in the 1920s the bank paid better than the major leagues! I remember him doing all sorts of magic tricks with a baseball for small children and dogs – he could completely spoof you. I was in awe of his athleticism.
Pops retired at 65 as Vice President of HR for that same savings bank, having spent his entire career there. I was blessed to have him in my life for another 28 years, 10 of those without my grandmother. Those years were when we really talked about everything. One day he confessed to me that when he was in his 20s he’d had a mental health crisis, suffering panic attacks after becoming a new father. He’d held that inside for 70 years – afraid to talk about it due to fear of losing his job. My grandfather refused to get a haircut professionally for 20 years because he’d had the panic attack outside the barbershop door. The odd thing was that I’d had a panic attack a year before. I’d read that they could be hereditary, but I never expected that my strong grandfather was the one who had had that experience. I was so glad he trusted me to help him finally process that experience aloud. Our mutual experience brought us even closer together.
Pops retired at 65 as Vice President of HR for that same savings bank, having spent his entire career there. I was blessed to have him in my life for another 28 years, 10 of those without my grandmother. Those years were when we really talked about everything. One day he confessed to me that when he was in his 20s he’d had a mental health crisis, suffering panic attacks after becoming a new father. He’d held that inside for 70 years – afraid to talk about it due to fear of losing his job. My grandfather refused to get a haircut professionally for 20 years because he’d had the panic attack outside the barbershop door. The odd thing was that I’d had a panic attack a year before. I’d read that they could be hereditary, but I never expected that my strong grandfather was the one who had had that experience. I was so glad he trusted me to help him finally process that experience aloud. Our mutual experience brought us even closer together.
Pops and I during a vacation in Maine.
My grandfather was my rock, a constant in my life for 43 years. His passing was a huge loss for me. I gave the eulogy at his funeral and it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, but I felt him supporting me the entire time I spoke. I was that little girl again, standing on his feet while we danced.
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