A Tribute to Grandpa Joe

A Tribute to Grandpa Joe

Pat's maternal grandfather, Joe, passed away last week at the ripe old age of 93. He lived a good and honorable life so I don't think we should feel too sorry for him. On the other hand, I think it is fair to feel sorry for those of us who were fortunate enough to know him. I first met Grandpa Joe about 10 years ago, not too long after Pat and I started dating. To be honest, I never anticipated that I would develop a meaningful relationship with him. Joe was already into his 80s and had a passel of adoring grandchildren. He certainly didn't need me. However, Joe's greatness can be measured not only by how much he loved his family but also by his capacity to embrace those who might not officially be his family. He always greeted me with a sparkle in his eye and genuine interest about our latest adventures. And he never ended a phone conversation with Pat before requesting a few minutes to chat with me. Just days before his death, he was peppering Pat and I about our upcoming Mount Whitney trip.

Here are a few stories I would like to share about Joe:

Each summer Pat's extended family vacations in Rye Beach, NH. The first time I went, everyone kept telling me how that the water was unbearably cold. But, of course, I pretty much ignored everyone, since I thought I was a tough Montana chick who knew cold water. When I arrived at the beach, Grandpa Joe was swimming. I jumped right in. Mistake! The water was painfully cold. However, not to be outdone by an octogenarian, I vowed to myself not to leave the water until Joe did. A very long time later, when my lips were blue, the hair on my arms was standing straight up, and my skin was puckered, I gave up and headed for the beach. Joe, meanwhile, keep swimming!

When Joe found out that I was a big baseball fan, yet had never seen the Red Sox play, he became determined that I should see a game at Fenway. He managed to get two tickets, just for Pat and I, to a game the very day we flew in from Montana. After spending all day in the air, Pat and I headed straight to Fenway where they gave us little cards commemorating the life of Ted Williams. Both Pat and I looked at each other and said "Did Ted Williams die?" We turned around to the people sitting behind us, and asked. Sure enough, Ted Williams had died that morning!

My last memory:

When Pat's sister Kerrie got married in April, Nana and Joe were right there for the festivities. Joe walked a little bit slower and seemed a little older than I remembered, and I suspected that it would be the last time I saw him. However, that didn't stop him from dragging ME out to the dance floor when he saw me sitting alone at my table while everyone else danced. Even at 93, he had more rhythm than me!