What do you miss?
While I don't like to admit it, there really are times when I miss being home. I miss being around my family. And even though high school was hardly the best time of my life, I had a lot of *good* times. I miss them. I miss my old college roommate, and watching the The X-Files and eating Italian take-out on Sunday nights. I really do.
Probably, most of all at this time of year, I miss my grandfather. He passed away about three years ago now. He was a *singular* human being. What you have to understand is that my grandfather was *tough.* Now, he was not tough in that phony, macho way that so many men were. No. He was *really* tough. When he was a young man, he was a boxer. He worked in a foundary, and as a union steward. After he retired, he volunteered at the local boxing club, helping to train kids (and trying to keep them out of trouble).
He was the kind of guy who would bruise his ribs, and go jogging the next day. This was when he was 60. Until the day he died, he continued to punch the bag, lift weights, and walk daily. When he was a young man, he used to dive into fights. Not because he liked to fight, but because he didn't ilke to see a group of guys beating up one guy. It wasn't fair.
He was like that. He used to help people out - maybe invite someone who didn't have a whole lot in for a meal, give them a new shirt. If the kids he worked with trained hard, he would take them all over the Midwest to fight. Once, a friend of his got terrible frostbite on his feet. My grandfather carried him to a New Year's Eve dance, since he coudln't walk. There was just no way he would leave him alone.
He was the kind of guy who would always slip you a buck, so you could buy a hamburger or a Coke. He was the kind of guy who would spend his summer mornings help me cut lawns to make money.
He was full of opinions - on politics, on fighters, on whatever. We didn't eat grapes or lettuce for years, in solidarity with migrant workers. He even protested outside of grocery stores. When he died, my grandmother found newspaper clippings in his stuff, mostly about war, complete with underlining.
When my grandfather died, I remember my dad wouldn't go into the visitation room at the wake. He was my *maternal* grandfather. But he was like my dad's best friend. My dad said: "He was the hardest man I knew..." He was crying when he said it. That's about the truest thing I've *ever* heard. I want to cry right now just thinking about my dad saying that. For weeks after he died, my dad would leave Sunday dinner at my grandmother's house early. He just couldn't be there, ya know?
My grandfather was a charter member of the local YMCA and the LULAC. He was a jogger before it was popular. As he put it: "You don't run to live longer, but to look better while you're here." When he ran, he never changed his pace. He was Catholic, but he loved to critique the church. He worked hard. He loved good food. He loved *hot* food. He was sweet and funny and had terrible hearing. He was stubborn as they come. He spoke fluent Spanish and English. He had cancer twice, but it was that second heart attack that did him in.
He died at home, in the morning. He went the right way - he was too active and could never have handled being in a hospital for an extended period of time, hooked up to machines.
He was the most confident persion I've ever seen. He wasn't a jerk, but he wouldn't be treated badly by anyone. He fought in Korea, and had a glass eye because his infected eye was not properly treated by Army doctors.
He was pretty nosy. He was the kind of guy who would bug you to wear your hat or lock your doors. He had this odd habit of asking "Are you asleep?" until you answered - effectively waking you up. He always called to check in.
He used to patrol his old neighborhood, when it got bad - trying to keep it in line. He was always a bit clumsy - prone to dropping his plate of food at dinner, ya know?
Holidays aren't quite the same anymore. They're not bad. Just a little .... quieter. I really miss him....There were *hundreds* of people (over 500) at the wake and the funeral. There were plants forever.....
Yup. Be good Ray. You deserve the rest...
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While I don't like to admit it, there really are times when I miss being home. I miss being around my family. And even though high school was hardly the best time of my life, I had a lot of *good* times. I miss them. I miss my old college roommate, and watching the The X-Files and eating Italian take-out on Sunday nights. I really do.
Probably, most of all at this time of year, I miss my grandfather. He passed away about three years ago now. He was a *singular* human being. What you have to understand is that my grandfather was *tough.* Now, he was not tough in that phony, macho way that so many men were. No. He was *really* tough. When he was a young man, he was a boxer. He worked in a foundary, and as a union steward. After he retired, he volunteered at the local boxing club, helping to train kids (and trying to keep them out of trouble).
He was the kind of guy who would bruise his ribs, and go jogging the next day. This was when he was 60. Until the day he died, he continued to punch the bag, lift weights, and walk daily. When he was a young man, he used to dive into fights. Not because he liked to fight, but because he didn't ilke to see a group of guys beating up one guy. It wasn't fair.
He was like that. He used to help people out - maybe invite someone who didn't have a whole lot in for a meal, give them a new shirt. If the kids he worked with trained hard, he would take them all over the Midwest to fight. Once, a friend of his got terrible frostbite on his feet. My grandfather carried him to a New Year's Eve dance, since he coudln't walk. There was just no way he would leave him alone.
He was the kind of guy who would always slip you a buck, so you could buy a hamburger or a Coke. He was the kind of guy who would spend his summer mornings help me cut lawns to make money.
He was full of opinions - on politics, on fighters, on whatever. We didn't eat grapes or lettuce for years, in solidarity with migrant workers. He even protested outside of grocery stores. When he died, my grandmother found newspaper clippings in his stuff, mostly about war, complete with underlining.
When my grandfather died, I remember my dad wouldn't go into the visitation room at the wake. He was my *maternal* grandfather. But he was like my dad's best friend. My dad said: "He was the hardest man I knew..." He was crying when he said it. That's about the truest thing I've *ever* heard. I want to cry right now just thinking about my dad saying that. For weeks after he died, my dad would leave Sunday dinner at my grandmother's house early. He just couldn't be there, ya know?
My grandfather was a charter member of the local YMCA and the LULAC. He was a jogger before it was popular. As he put it: "You don't run to live longer, but to look better while you're here." When he ran, he never changed his pace. He was Catholic, but he loved to critique the church. He worked hard. He loved good food. He loved *hot* food. He was sweet and funny and had terrible hearing. He was stubborn as they come. He spoke fluent Spanish and English. He had cancer twice, but it was that second heart attack that did him in.
He died at home, in the morning. He went the right way - he was too active and could never have handled being in a hospital for an extended period of time, hooked up to machines.
He was the most confident persion I've ever seen. He wasn't a jerk, but he wouldn't be treated badly by anyone. He fought in Korea, and had a glass eye because his infected eye was not properly treated by Army doctors.
He was pretty nosy. He was the kind of guy who would bug you to wear your hat or lock your doors. He had this odd habit of asking "Are you asleep?" until you answered - effectively waking you up. He always called to check in.
He used to patrol his old neighborhood, when it got bad - trying to keep it in line. He was always a bit clumsy - prone to dropping his plate of food at dinner, ya know?
Holidays aren't quite the same anymore. They're not bad. Just a little .... quieter. I really miss him....There were *hundreds* of people (over 500) at the wake and the funeral. There were plants forever.....
Yup. Be good Ray. You deserve the rest...
********************************************************************************************************************
My Weekly Artist Chart:
My Overall Artist Chart:
My Overall Track Chart:
VIEW 8 of 8 COMMENTS
I miss that first apartment. The one I was writing about earlier this week. Your entry puts a lot in perspective for me.