My OperaPop
Thursday, April 26, 2007 10:41:27 AM
My grandfather lived so deep in the mountains of Virginia that it was too far to walk to the schoolhouse. This, in an age when no one thought much of walking miles to accomplish most anything.
So he never learned to read or write.
(Two of his six brothers did learn to read, however, after the ‘Christian do-gooders got hold of ‘em’ in prison where they did time for robbing a bank in Louisville, KY in the 1920s. Both men ‘came to Jesus’ when they were paroled and lived respectful lives as productive citizens, husbands and fathers.)
He worked 6 days a week all of his life, from sun-up to sundown. He was frugal with his earnings. Consequently he built his family large houses and moved – next door – every few years, and constructed his last home – a huge colonial American with two kitchens and 5 bedrooms – for only he and his wife, in 1962.
Behind his large home was a two-bedroom cabin, which he renovated and rented to folk whose only income was Social Security. From 1962 until his death in 1998 the rent stayed at $80.00 per month, and he paid all utilities.
He knew all the ‘widders’ and ‘cripples’ in his neighborhood. On Saturday mornings he and I would take each one vegetables from his garden. They would always make an effort to hand him something from their change purse, and he would always politely refuse. They always knew he would politely refuse, too, but the offer was part of the meeting.
One particular visit comes to mind. I was maybe 6 or 7. We delivered a grocery bag full of assorted vegetables to a ‘cripple’ who answered the doorbell propped on crutches. During the visit the man told me that he used to be a ‘bad sinner.’ One night the Lord ‘crippled my legs’ to humble him and make him ‘fix my ways.’ He then looked sternly at me and cautioned me never to become a ‘bad sinner’ lest the Lord cripple me, too.
I was absolutely petrified. I just knew that my day of punishment was coming. It was certain. It was beyond doubt. God was going to get 6 year old little Moontan, although I didn’t know why.
Walking home later, Pop told me that ‘some people believe what they want, but that don’t make it so. God don’t cripple people, Son. You remember that.”
I was delivered. I was saved. Whatever Pop said was always right. His word was unquestionable, one notch above God Himself.
Unable to read and write, Pop made sure he watched NBC news everyday. He was no fool. He knew what was going on in the world. One day during a broadcast, his wife and sister-in-law suddenly began screaming in the basement. Aggravated at the interruption of his beloved news, he went downstairs to investigate. On the floor was a copperhead snake curled up, hissing.
He crushed its head with his foot, said ‘I’ll throw it out later,’ and returned to the television.
With his foot. A poisonous snake.
His lifelong wife died when he was 71, and he damn near died, too. But 4 years later he began dating a woman he met ‘down to the old people’s lodge.’ One day he was driving her – slowly, no doubt, as most old folk drive 10 miles an hour – to dinner when a carload of 4 teenagers began blowing the horn from behind him, willing him to speed up a bit.
He stopped the car in the middle of the road, retrieved from under the seat a 3-foot piece of garden hose with a section of lead in one end, and walked back to their vehicle, inviting them to either get out of the car and fight, or lay off the damned horn.
I wish I’d have been there to witness the look on their faces as an old fart challenged them to fisticuffs. That would have been worth the price of admission!
He married that woman, and wore two wedding rings.
The last time I saw Pop, he was 92 and frail. He told me that he was ‘ready to go.’ He inquired about my three children, and he asked me if I read the Bible to them.
“Yes sir, I do.”
“Good. Good. Cain’t go wrong doin’ that. Mind you don’t stop.”
“No sir, I won’t.”
I don’t know why I woke up this morning thinking of Pop. I suppose maybe one day I’ll have grandchildren, and they’ll look to me for all the answers to the challenges and lessons of life.
And I wonder if I can live up to Pop’s example. Will I cast a comforting shadow for those little critters the way he did for me? Will I measure up to his stature?
I doubt it. But I’ll try.
Moon
So he never learned to read or write.
(Two of his six brothers did learn to read, however, after the ‘Christian do-gooders got hold of ‘em’ in prison where they did time for robbing a bank in Louisville, KY in the 1920s. Both men ‘came to Jesus’ when they were paroled and lived respectful lives as productive citizens, husbands and fathers.)
He worked 6 days a week all of his life, from sun-up to sundown. He was frugal with his earnings. Consequently he built his family large houses and moved – next door – every few years, and constructed his last home – a huge colonial American with two kitchens and 5 bedrooms – for only he and his wife, in 1962.
Behind his large home was a two-bedroom cabin, which he renovated and rented to folk whose only income was Social Security. From 1962 until his death in 1998 the rent stayed at $80.00 per month, and he paid all utilities.
He knew all the ‘widders’ and ‘cripples’ in his neighborhood. On Saturday mornings he and I would take each one vegetables from his garden. They would always make an effort to hand him something from their change purse, and he would always politely refuse. They always knew he would politely refuse, too, but the offer was part of the meeting.
One particular visit comes to mind. I was maybe 6 or 7. We delivered a grocery bag full of assorted vegetables to a ‘cripple’ who answered the doorbell propped on crutches. During the visit the man told me that he used to be a ‘bad sinner.’ One night the Lord ‘crippled my legs’ to humble him and make him ‘fix my ways.’ He then looked sternly at me and cautioned me never to become a ‘bad sinner’ lest the Lord cripple me, too.
I was absolutely petrified. I just knew that my day of punishment was coming. It was certain. It was beyond doubt. God was going to get 6 year old little Moontan, although I didn’t know why.
Walking home later, Pop told me that ‘some people believe what they want, but that don’t make it so. God don’t cripple people, Son. You remember that.”
I was delivered. I was saved. Whatever Pop said was always right. His word was unquestionable, one notch above God Himself.
Unable to read and write, Pop made sure he watched NBC news everyday. He was no fool. He knew what was going on in the world. One day during a broadcast, his wife and sister-in-law suddenly began screaming in the basement. Aggravated at the interruption of his beloved news, he went downstairs to investigate. On the floor was a copperhead snake curled up, hissing.
He crushed its head with his foot, said ‘I’ll throw it out later,’ and returned to the television.
With his foot. A poisonous snake.
His lifelong wife died when he was 71, and he damn near died, too. But 4 years later he began dating a woman he met ‘down to the old people’s lodge.’ One day he was driving her – slowly, no doubt, as most old folk drive 10 miles an hour – to dinner when a carload of 4 teenagers began blowing the horn from behind him, willing him to speed up a bit.
He stopped the car in the middle of the road, retrieved from under the seat a 3-foot piece of garden hose with a section of lead in one end, and walked back to their vehicle, inviting them to either get out of the car and fight, or lay off the damned horn.
I wish I’d have been there to witness the look on their faces as an old fart challenged them to fisticuffs. That would have been worth the price of admission!
He married that woman, and wore two wedding rings.
The last time I saw Pop, he was 92 and frail. He told me that he was ‘ready to go.’ He inquired about my three children, and he asked me if I read the Bible to them.
“Yes sir, I do.”
“Good. Good. Cain’t go wrong doin’ that. Mind you don’t stop.”
“No sir, I won’t.”
I don’t know why I woke up this morning thinking of Pop. I suppose maybe one day I’ll have grandchildren, and they’ll look to me for all the answers to the challenges and lessons of life.
And I wonder if I can live up to Pop’s example. Will I cast a comforting shadow for those little critters the way he did for me? Will I measure up to his stature?
I doubt it. But I’ll try.
Moon
You must be 
(20%)
Melmlynnjohnson # Thursday, April 26, 2007 1:22:19 PM
This granddad of yours, was he your Mom's daddy? Because they both sound as though they have the same sort of moxie
I wish you many grandchildren, and that they all find such wisdom, kindness and courage one day in you
Moontan the TrueMoontan01 # Thursday, April 26, 2007 1:53:48 PM
No, he was my paternal grandfather, but Mom was his favorite daughter-in-law.
M
Melmlynnjohnson # Thursday, April 26, 2007 2:30:53 PM
Moontan the TrueMoontan01 # Thursday, April 26, 2007 2:51:15 PM
Starphoenix # Thursday, April 26, 2007 5:42:26 PM
Thanks for writing this. You did good.
Moontan the TrueMoontan01 # Thursday, April 26, 2007 6:06:25 PM
Starphoenix # Thursday, April 26, 2007 6:10:48 PM
dɹɐzılpǝkɔıw ɐʞɐ ɹǝɥgɐllɐg lǝbɐsıwickedlizard # Friday, April 27, 2007 7:19:24 PM
Moontan the TrueMoontan01 # Friday, April 27, 2007 8:04:50 PM
Michael and Gwenmakneale # Thursday, May 3, 2007 12:50:19 AM
Best blog I have read so far....
Michael and Gwen
Moontan the TrueMoontan01 # Thursday, May 3, 2007 1:03:38 AM