I don't wear the watch Gumpy gave me for my college graduation very often. I usually save it for special occasions or big meetings where I think I need just a little edge. I wore it last night again, this time for the graduation ceremony at Maple Valley High School, which I attended to help hand out the awards for the Maple Valley Memorial Scholarship Foundation.
My high school graduation was not much of a milestone for me. Sure it was important but we had moved to Traverse City in my Sophomore year of high school, so I had little emotional connection to my school and going to college was already a forgone conclusion in my mind. That high school diploma was more of my ticket into college than a piece of paper to celebrate. Family came out to visit and I had a graduation party with my best friend at the time, but it is not the graduation I am most proud of.
That day came six years later when I graduated from Oakland University with my Bachelors in Political Science. Walking across stage at the Meadowbrook Music Theater, shaking Dr. Nesbary's hand first then having Dr. Klemanski hand me my diploma was an incredibly memorable experience. I had worked hard, paying for school myself and I felt like I had earned every drop of ink on that certificate.
Afterward, we had a party at my Aunt and Uncle's house with family and close friends. Gumpy gave me my watch that day, telling me just how proud he was of me. My watch was just like his watch that I had admired for many years. It symbolized that Gumpy was proud of me and my accomplishment. It is a gift that I will always cherish.
Twelve years later, after aggressively fighting cancer for years, he began to really worry about me having something to remember him by. He came back to the watch as the one accessory that a man needed to complete a professional look, and he wanted to give me a watch like his. Whenever he was worried that I didn't have a watch, I would remind him that he gave me one just like his for graduation. He would usually seem shocked, then pleased when Ema reminded him that I was correct. And I would always be a little bit heartbroken, knowing that he could no longer remember one of my favorite days with him. He desperately wanted to win his fight to the death with cancer, so he did everything he could to win. The aggressive chemotherapy treatments that were meant to extend his life did just that, they extended his physical time with us. Those same treatments robbed us all of the best of Gumpy.
When I wear the watch now, I always pause for a minute. The green and red leaves that surround the 12 and 6 positions are a bit understated. Citizens watches are not spectacular timepieces, they are functional. I pause not for the beauty of the watch, although I find it to be a nice looking timepiece. I pause with a twinge of pain, knowing that my proud, strong grandfather could no longer remember the moments in our relationship we both cherished. That pain quickly fades to a smile, because putting the watch on gives me another reason to think about why Gumpy gave it to me and the college graduation tradition I hope to continue.
Showing posts with label tradition. Show all posts
Showing posts with label tradition. Show all posts
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Thursday, November 25, 2010
I Still Give Thanks With Gumpy
My last Thanksgiving with Gumpy was terrible, yet I would not trade the time with him for anything. The chemotherapy and radiation treatments left his body in a weakened condition, which caused his hemoglobin levels to drop to dangerously low levels a few times. The first time this happened, the treatment was so aggressive to bring him back that it induced congestive heart failure, leaving him restricted on the amount of fluid he could take in for the rest of his life.
The pain caused by bodily functions now compromised was excruciating, leaving him in tears on several occasions. I sat in the one bathroom at the farmhouse with him for several hours that Thanksgiving, trying to help him get through the torment of his failing body.
Remembering that day is unfortunately easy, but I embrace happier memories of Thanksgiving with the old boy.
As a kid, I loved going to the farm for Thanksgiving. We lived on the back 40 acres, so we would hop in the car and ride the half mile up to the house. Sure, we could have walked up there as we did all summer but Thanksgiving was always at the tail end of firearm deer season, so walking on our own property was occasionally dangerous.
We would leave as soon as the Thanksgiving Parade shows on Channel 6 and Channel 10 went off the air. Mom would have Rebekah and I bundled in sweaters to keep us warm. I would bounce into the farmhouse because it was always so warm and smelled so tasty. To keep my appetite at bay, Ema would have orange and grapefruit slices out, which I always used to enhance my smile. Gumpy would be in the basement, tending to the Florida room so I would wander down to see if I could help stack firewood or tend the fire.
Mom and Aunt Moose would be busy trying to help Ema get the dining room and food in order. For most of the year, the dining room in the small house was used as an all-purpose room. Ema used it as more of an office, with her desk in one corner of the room and paperwork stacked on top of the dining room table. Gumpy used it as a changing room. You would find his wallet and pocket change on the table with his dirty jeans draped over one of the chairs. Family meals were usually eaten at the kitchen table, with the exception of Thanksgiving and Christmas.
By the time everything was ready, at least two members of the King family would have arrived to share the meal with us. As we gathered around the table, Gumpy would start the family grace,
Dinner would end and we would leave for Grandma and Grandpa Lingholm's for our second Thanksgiving dinner. Afterward, we would return to the farm for desert which was always a pumpkin pie with whipped topping and the occasional apple grunt. In most families, a grunt would be referred to as an apple cobbler. However, Gumpy called it a grunt because you wanted to grunt when you pushed yourself away from the table after eating so much of it.
There was little remarkable about the day itself, other than the opportunity to spend a day with family, which was why Gumpy always seemed to enjoy the day so much. As with many traditions, life got in the way. It started with Ema and Gumpy retiring and spending much of the winter in Florida. Mom moved us to Traverse City after she divorced her first husband and that tore away a bit of the tradition too. Now I've remarried and I've spent the past few Thanksgivings in Tampa with Gladys' family.
What remains of our tradition are the memories of enjoyable times with family and the basis for a new tradition of my own, an evening to reflect on how much I love Gumpy. Happy Thanksgiving old boy!
The pain caused by bodily functions now compromised was excruciating, leaving him in tears on several occasions. I sat in the one bathroom at the farmhouse with him for several hours that Thanksgiving, trying to help him get through the torment of his failing body.
Remembering that day is unfortunately easy, but I embrace happier memories of Thanksgiving with the old boy.
As a kid, I loved going to the farm for Thanksgiving. We lived on the back 40 acres, so we would hop in the car and ride the half mile up to the house. Sure, we could have walked up there as we did all summer but Thanksgiving was always at the tail end of firearm deer season, so walking on our own property was occasionally dangerous.
We would leave as soon as the Thanksgiving Parade shows on Channel 6 and Channel 10 went off the air. Mom would have Rebekah and I bundled in sweaters to keep us warm. I would bounce into the farmhouse because it was always so warm and smelled so tasty. To keep my appetite at bay, Ema would have orange and grapefruit slices out, which I always used to enhance my smile. Gumpy would be in the basement, tending to the Florida room so I would wander down to see if I could help stack firewood or tend the fire.
Mom and Aunt Moose would be busy trying to help Ema get the dining room and food in order. For most of the year, the dining room in the small house was used as an all-purpose room. Ema used it as more of an office, with her desk in one corner of the room and paperwork stacked on top of the dining room table. Gumpy used it as a changing room. You would find his wallet and pocket change on the table with his dirty jeans draped over one of the chairs. Family meals were usually eaten at the kitchen table, with the exception of Thanksgiving and Christmas.
By the time everything was ready, at least two members of the King family would have arrived to share the meal with us. As we gathered around the table, Gumpy would start the family grace,
"For these and all other blessings, the Lord make us truly thankful. Amen."
Dinner would end and we would leave for Grandma and Grandpa Lingholm's for our second Thanksgiving dinner. Afterward, we would return to the farm for desert which was always a pumpkin pie with whipped topping and the occasional apple grunt. In most families, a grunt would be referred to as an apple cobbler. However, Gumpy called it a grunt because you wanted to grunt when you pushed yourself away from the table after eating so much of it.
There was little remarkable about the day itself, other than the opportunity to spend a day with family, which was why Gumpy always seemed to enjoy the day so much. As with many traditions, life got in the way. It started with Ema and Gumpy retiring and spending much of the winter in Florida. Mom moved us to Traverse City after she divorced her first husband and that tore away a bit of the tradition too. Now I've remarried and I've spent the past few Thanksgivings in Tampa with Gladys' family.
What remains of our tradition are the memories of enjoyable times with family and the basis for a new tradition of my own, an evening to reflect on how much I love Gumpy. Happy Thanksgiving old boy!
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