In Memory of Grover Patrick: What an "Old Man Who Doesn't Know Anything" taught me about being a man, and a dad

Well, I wasn't expecting to write this blog when I said a new blog was coming soon. I wish I didn't have to write this, at least not yet. But, God's plan was different than mine was, and so I find myself trying to figure out how to put into words what my grandpa, Grover Patrick (known to most of the world as "Pat") meant to me.
What strikes me the most about grandpa is what he taught me about being a husband and a father, strictly through example. I don't recall ever sitting down with him and having a conversation about what it means to raise children, for sure, and I don't think he had any audible words of wisdom on my wedding day, when he was one of my groomsmen. I don't remember a whole lot of deep conversations with him about how TO DO anything.
When the abuse that my mom was suffering through at the hands of my dad got to be more than anyone should ever have to deal with, we moved out of dad's house and into my grandpa's. At that time, I was a punk teenager who thought I knew everything, and acted like it. I remember many times, making my mom very upset and grandpa would step into the drama. He would start his discipline the same way every time, with "I know you think I'm just an old man who doesn't know anything..." and, at the time, I would have probably had to agree with him. I hate the fact that I ever had that thought, but the truth is the truth. I wrote all that simply to just let you know that I know now that he knew more than I ever can hope to, and it's in memory of him that I write this blog.
Grandpa, through his example, taught me how to be a man, and a dad, in these ways. And, since I am sure that my friend Andrew Bowen will probably read this, I'll do it in 'pastor' speak, a nice, concise 4 point list.

The 4 Be's that Grover Patrick taught me about being a man:

1) BE PASSIONATE. Grandpa had a love for music. Country music. Most of it the 'old school' country music. The kind that made me roll my eyes back in the day. His favorite was Willie Nelson, and he listened to that stuff constantly. He would usually sing along with it, sometimes over and over a million times. I remember sitting on the porch one day with my sister and one of her friends and listening to him playing the guitar and singing "Blue Eyes Crying In The Rain" and just thinking about how ridiculously unhip he was.
I think at that time I was listening to Vanilla Ice. I guess he won that argument, too.
I know for a fact I wouldn't be as interested in music as I am if it weren't for his nearly constant love of music. For that, I thank you, grandpa.
Another thing I got from him is my love of politics. He was a true Blue Democrat in a (some would say troublingly) RED county in a RED state. He was involved with, and could discuss, politics for hours with anyone who would listen. He certainly had his political enemies and people who were opposed to his views, but in all the campaigns I watched him run (2 for mayor and several for city council) he NEVER went negative. He certainly comes from the 'old school' and he came from a political era where it was truly about the issues, and sometimes he didn't land on the right side of those issues, but he always was respectful of his politicial opposition, and I think they came to respect him. He gave everything he had to the campaigns, and it was inspiring. So much so that my return to Ligonier to run for mayor will be announced here soon--okay, probably not. Have no fear, citizens. ;)

2. BE PROTECTIVE. The day that my uncle Jeff graduated from college, my father and my grandfather got into a fist fight. On the front porch of grandpa's house. By this time, my dad was drinking heavily, and the Huntington's that would eventually take his life was just starting to take a hold on his body, but he was easily 20 years younger than Grandpa, and had the clear advantage in strength. Dad had come to the house, was verbally assaulting Grandpa, my mom, and Jeff, and how and when it became physical, I don't know--mom had ushered Laura and I into the house long before that had happened--but it did. I remember that before it was all over, grandpa was bleeding, his glasses were broken, and my dad was led away in handcuffs. He could have just called the police, had dad removed, and that would have been that. The thing about grandpa was, he knew his role in his family. No one was going to do anything to hurt his family. I am not doing a good job of saying what I am trying to say here, but I learned that day that family was the most important thing to him, and making sure that everyone he loves is safe and secure was paramount to him. I hope that, God forbid, if something like that ever happens to one of my children I will have the guts to fight whatever they are facing with and for them. As a dad, and as a husband, it is important to make sure those around you feel safe, and I know that grandpa would have gone through hell and back for his family.

3. Be Loving. What has struck me more than anything else in the last day or so, since he has passed, is how everyone has such fond memories of him. In the last year or so, the Alzheimer's had ravaged his mind, and made him very abusive and (sometimes) hateful. Even having to deal with that, the nurses at the nursing home have all said, either to my mom or to me directly, that he was one of their favorite residents. Grandpa was always so kind to everyone around him, even those he didn't necessarily like or enjoy being in the company of. I am sure that if you would ask people who knew him what their favorite memory of him was, you would get things like "his sense of humor", "how sweet he was", and how devoted to his family and friends he was. I had the privilege of being with him for one of his last major trips, to his brother in law's funeral in Illinois. He was certainly not 100% (I remember him constantly asking my brother in law how he was going to get home, as we were driving him home), but when he was with Lillian, his beloved sister, I saw some of the man that I knew before he got sick. It was awful, having to see what the Alzheimer's did to him (and hearing about it from mom, because I didn't get over to see him as much as I should have) but those flashes of the way he used to be, when he was sitting with Lillian, made all the difficulty of coordinating that trip worth it.

4. Be "There" Mom has told me that while he was working his full time job, he wasn't around as much when she was growing up. I am sure that's true, but I know he was doing what he felt was best for his family. When I came around, he wasn't working as much, and so he spent a lot of time with us. I can not even begin to list off the examples of how he bailed me out of dumb decisions, all the times that my car broke down and he fixed it on the cheap (usually just a McDonald's hamburger). The story I want to tell here has to do with my ill-fated trip to Texas to be with the girl I was sure was THE ONE. I had spent all the money I had in the world getting the trip together, and my plan was to make a permanent move there. The girl had other plans, and I was literally completely broke, heartbroken, and alone in a hotel room in College Station, TX a day or two after New Year's, year 2000, and I called grandpa to ask him for money. He not only gave me the money, but he didn't lecture me about what a bone headed mistake I had made. He just did what he had to to help me. He SHOULD have lectured me, he SHOULD HAVE refused to help, but he didn't. That wasn't in his nature. I can't speak for how he was when my mom was young, but he was always there for me. Always.

I guess the best way to conclude this is to simply say Thanks, Grandpa, I love you. You will be missed more than I have been able to come up with a way to put into words. And I think that's okay. His words were always secondary to his actions. If I can look back on my life and have had half the impact on my world that Grover Patrick had on his, I will know I have done something very, very right.

"Love is like a dying ember
And only memories remain
And through the ages I'll remember
Blue Eyes Crying in the rain
Someday we'll meet up yonder
We'll stroll hand in hand again
In the land that knows no parting
Blue eyes crying in the rain."

New Blog!

It's coming...soon.

Welcome

You've obviously come here because you know me, or have stumbled upon me, or know someone who knows me. At any rate, welcome. This is the place where I intend to randomly and with no particular frequency toss out my thoughts on things, things that make me laugh, things that challenge me, and yes, sometimes, things that make me angry, frustrated or irritate me.
I want to start by telling you a bit about the title of this blog. I could have used something much more original, and probably interesting, but "2 and 2 High Chairs" pretty well sums up where I am in my life at the moment. There's Jill and I (the 2) and Jonah and Carolina (who sit in 2 high chairs when we go to restaurants). It's not rocket science, people. :)
I'm many things to many people. Son, husband, doggy daddy, phone salesman, Christian, music lover, guy at 50% risk of Huntington's Disease, part time DJ, brother, Die Hard Colts fan, step-brother, Blues Traveler fanatic, step-son, friend, comrade, fence pusher off-er, Nashville Predator fan, catcher of a couch faller off-er. I think the one that best explains me these days is "father", or "daddy", or, as Jonah says DADADADAADADADADADADADADA!
I think that's probably my favorite title so far, other than, perhaps, King of All Media (but that one is taken).
Now that the introductory phase is out of the way, look for more nonsense being spewed forth from me in the very near future. Right now, though, I think I just heard Kevin (this would be Carrie's stuffed teddy bear) hit the floor, so I have to go rescue him. Oh, there's another title for me: Little Girl Hero. :)