It’s been a while Gramps.

The thing is — for what is probably a typical Canadian situation where family distribution is measured in hours, even days — my grandparents were the happy glue of the family. We’d only have the larger get-togethers on special occasions; Christmas being the main event. If it wasn’t for Nick & Vera driving the course between their six children, I’m certain we would have lost touch. We certainly wouldn’t have a sense of “family.”

The call.

I clearly remember the phone call. 14 years ago today. I was sitting over an afternoon coffee with a bunch of MIT geeks — and “Dave”, who collected antique saxophones — at an office in Columbus. We were discussing the matter of my car having been stolen that morning from the secured parking lot of an insurance company. The company for whom we were all engaged and who, ironically, provided my theft insurance. The phone rang. “Dennis, come home.” Hanging up the phone, I explained the situation to the team. “Dennis, you are not lucky today.”

The winter walk wasn’t really an option.

Not having a car was sort of an issue. The irony of having worked on the system that allowed my insurance agent to say: “Sorry, I can’t accept the claim of theft on your car for at least another 2 weeks or until the police confirm it.” was not at all sweet. But I was a dog and managed to find an independent agent working late into the evening in some hideaway village who was willing to, thankfully, materialize my claim into something with four wheels.

The next bits are sort of fuzzy.

I remember the ceremony. I remember standing there in the funeral home next to him. I remember the smell. I remember his friend stopping by to give his condolences; his story about them jumping from a train with leaves of freshly farmed tobacco tucked into their shirts during the depression. I remember thinking it must have been a hard life. I remembered singing Twinkle Twinkle in his lap when I was 4. I remembered fishing; looking for worms the night before with a flashlight on freshly watered grass. I remembered being a child; I remember saying thanks after goodbye. I remember a lot of things about him but mostly I remember his unfailing character. I remember not having visited his house after he died; I spent the vast majority of my childhood there; my first home.

The thing is, all these memories reinforce the idea that a person is only someone if they can: 1/ positively influence at least one person in their life, and 2/ actively work to ensure the continuity of 1. Number 1 is easy, we’ve all done that. Number 2 takes a lot of time, effort, realization that things change, and the ability to react when they do. So, I guess what I appreciate most about my grandfather is that he was able to keep the family together (to this day) by adapting and — unless my grandmother says otherwise — silently accepting the conditions they we put upon him. No matter what the burden.

The chemistry.

All families are basically the same I suppose. There are the fools & idiots; there are the givers and there are the takers. Seeing that my family leans towards the »we laugh at everything but mostly ourselves« side, what really surprises me — and makes me the most proud of mine — is that 14 years on, we can still call us “us.” We may have lost our glue but we certainly didn’t lose our chemistry. If that’s not a testament to legacy, I’m not sure what is.

Thanks.