My paternal grandfather was endearingly referred to by his great grandchildren as “Wild Bill.” They loved him and they welcomed every opportunity to share time with him. He had the ability to captivate their attention with his playful interaction and relaxed countenance. He also held their attention with incredibly detailed stories from the past. His stories were amazing.
He was one of those people who never aged and had the unique ability to garner the attention and respect of folks of any age. He somehow had the ability to find delight in the circumstances of nearly every day. He never met a stranger and he could talk the horns off a billy goat. He was gregarious and always open to an adventure.
On a Saturday morning in 1992, Treva announced to me that she was going car shopping. I wasn’t sure I heard her correctly. Never in her life had she ever expressed an interest in purchasing a car and on most occasions opted out of even going with me to a dealership when I thought it was time for a new car. At the time, I traded cars every year or two. Perhaps that is why I am still working today at the age of 103.
A couple of years prior I had purchased a minivan for Treva to drive. It was a 1990 Oldsmobile Silhoutte. At the time I purchased the minivan, Treva was driving a Buick Park Avenue with all the bells and whistles. Some people might mistake that as an older person’s car. The minivan easily fell into the “soccer mom” category. I thought she’d be delighted. In addition, I knew my daughter would. It was actually her idea to get a minivan.
If I’m going to provide you all the facts related to the story, I have to confess that I never even discussed the purchase of the minivan with Treva. After all, she hadn’t expressed any preference related to the previous six vehicles we had purchased. Why would my purchasing this one make a difference?
Hate is a strong term. I’m not sure I can say that Treva hated the Oldsmobile but she was not nearly as pleased as our daughter. Okay, maybe “mostly hated” is a better description.
I was stunned with the thought of her purchasing a vehicle without my input. Consequently, I asked if she’d mind if I went along. She was open to that and I was ecstatic when she selected a Toyota Celica convertible with a 5-speed transmission. I had no idea that my life could get that good.
At any rate, Granddad liked the convertible nearly as well as I did. He was 92 or 93 at the time and every time we went for a ride with the top down, he’d say, “This has been a real treat.”
At some level he seemed to be having as much fun as I had in my childhood when he hauled us in the back of his pickup truck. He’d allow us to stand up and hold on to the “headache” rack next to the cab. We all were clueless to the concept of inherent danger. It was all about the adventure and it was always fun.
When I think about my relationship with my grandchildren, I want to create for them the same kind of memories Granddad created for me. I tell Craig’s children every time I see them that it is okay to say Granddad is crazy as long as they say Granddad is crazy and fun. I am fairly insistent that the two characteristics need to be linked together.
A year ago this past January, I made the same spiel to all three children. We were at a ski resort in Virginia at the time. It was going to be a great week! No sooner had I shared that it was okay to say granddad is crazy and fun, than Jake who was age four at the time responded, “Granddad you are weird.” “Weird” did not have the same feel-good connotation as “crazy and fun.”
How old would you be if you didn’t know how old you were? Granddad was ageless. Shortly before his death at the age of 96, he looked at me and said, “Don, it goes by quickly.” I think of him often. I also think of his assessment of how quickly the years pass.
Saturday when we drove to Kerrville for the day, I remembered back to the first time I was in Kerrville. I was working in San Angelo as a child protective services worker. It was probably 1971 or 1972. I began work in 1970. I can’t remember how I got invited to the meeting of other child welfare workers. It was a relatively small group, but I do remember something the leader of the group shared with me as the three-day summit was over. She looked at me and said, “It is clear that you have a passion for this work. With you skill set and interest, you will do well with this agency.”
Isn’t it true if you really like what you do, you never work a day in your life? How abundantly enriched my life has been because it is all about the adventure. What I can’t figure out how to do is slow it down. It is going by way too quickly. Granddad was right.