As I have mentioned before, I was lucky enough in my youth to have not only all four of my grandparents, but also two of my great-grandparents, nearby. Grandpa Pete was one of these latter, husband of great-grandma Gladys of whom I have already written. Of the six grandparents that I knew in my lifetime, Grandpa Pete was probably the least familiar to me. Our paths just didn’t cross as much as with the other grandparents. But I do have a few memories to share, so let us begin.
First of all, Grandpa Pete’s full name was Albert Henry Brandt. Why did we call him Grandpa Pete? I have no idea. When I was very small, our farm was quite busy, with Grandpa Pete, Grandpa Meril Dean, and Dad all active in the family business. In every tractor, every pickup, and every house, there was a cb radio so the men could keep in touch, and the women could reach them if they needed to. Grandpa Pete’s cb handle was “Pistol Pete”, I remember that name on the back window of his orange and white chevy pickup in stick-on letters. I’m guessing Pistol Pete was a nickname he had picked up somewhere, and that’s probably why we called him Grandpa Pete. That is, however, still largely a mystery to me.
When I think of Grandpa Pete, the first thing that always comes to mind is horses. Grandpa Pete loved horses. When I was still very small, he had a couple of horses on the farm, but nobody ever rode them as far as I know. I got the impression they were rather old. I can’t remember their names, but I’m thinking one of them might have been Pepper.
Loving horses as he did, Grandpa Pete enjoyed going to the races, probably at Fonner Park over in Grand Island since I think that is the closest track to here. One of the favorite photos that I have in my possession is of Grandpa Pete, along with his brother Adolph, sister Eva, family friend Demps Clark, and a few other people I do not know. They are all standing in front of a horse at the racetrack, the horse having won a race that day. The caption on the photo says the horse belonged to Aunt Eva. I guess I like the photo so much because I have very few pictures of Grandpa, and this one is rather old, showing a much younger Albert Brandt than the one I knew.
Grandpa Pete was, of course, a farmer, from a long line of farmers that ended with my dad. I have a newspaper clipping from 1950, announcing that Albert Brandt had purchased some land north of Gibbon. That would undoubtedly be the farm that I grew up on. I vaguely remember a story about Grandpa finding a $5 gold piece in one of his corn fields, butI don’t really remember where I heard that.
I think the only other thing that I personally remember about Grandpa Pete, was that he was always burning stuff. HaHa! Back in the day, farmers would burn off the stalks and “trash” from a field that had recently been harvested. Grandpa also liked to burn the road ditches, when the weeds got tall and were dry from lack of rain. I don’t think he was a pyromaniac, I guess he just liked things to look neat and tidy instead of ragged and weedy. They have a lot of laws and regulations about burning now-a-days so I don’t know if farmer’s still do that, but you could always count on Grandpa Pete to burn something up.
Since I don’t really remember a lot about Grandpa, I decided to ask my brother, Kevin, what he remembered. I figured Kevin probably knew him better than the rest of us since he, Dad, and Grandpa Pete all lived together for a while. Here’s what Kevin had to say:
I've given it a lot of thought and there's really only a few things that really stood out in my mind about him. It sure did bring back some memories though, both good and bad.
Well, things he liked was coffee, Grandma Gladys' sugar cookies, watermelon and he loved steak but he couldn't chew it so he gnawed on it for a while then spit it out. Also he had a thing for pickled pigs feet. He liked to watch Matlock and loved baseball. He always wore a blue long sleeve button up shirt with overalls. His hair was always cut short, crew cut, and wore his hat with the bill turned just to the side.
You already know that he liked the horse races and he took me a few times.
We would often just get in his pickup and go driving around the country looking at stuff and he always let me drive. He taught me how to skin pheasant and rabbits.
I don't really remember any thing that he said a lot other than "god dammit Kevin", but I guess that was all the grown ups.
Those are some pretty cool memories, and I didn’t know any of those things about Grandpa, although I do remember the blue work shirts and overalls since Kevin mentioned it. I think that’s pretty neat that he liked Grandma Gladys’ sugar cookies so much; didn’t we all! That’s also a little sad since he outlived his wife by three years or so.
Kevin also mentioned to me that Pete is a nickname for Albert and that’s why he went by that name, something else I did not know.
Albert Henry (Pete) Brandt was born on December 22, 1897, in Surprise, Nebraska. He married Gladys Opal Brogan on August 6, 1920, and died on July 15, 1985, in Kearney, Nebraska. He now rests in Riverside Cemetery in Gibbon, Nebraska, beside his wife, parents, son, and grandson.
Proverbs 12:11 Whoever works his land will have plenty of bread, but he who follows worthless pursuits lacks sense.
James 5:7 Be patient, therefore, brothers, until the coming of the Lord. See how the farmer waits for the precious fruit of the earth, being patient about it, until it receives the early and the late rains.
Showing posts with label kevin. Show all posts
Showing posts with label kevin. Show all posts
Friday, May 13, 2011
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Memories - The Pasture
Kids these days! They just don’t know how to have fun, sitting in front of a TV all day playing video games, or doing heaven knows what on the internet. When I was a kid, we actually went outside and played. You know, running and jumping and stuff like that. We played games like hide-and-seek, or tag; freeze tag was my favorite, but I liked shadow tag as well.
One of my favorite places to play when I was a child, aside from the corn field, was our cow pasture. Our pasture hardly ever had any cows in it, so it became our own personal playground. It was way better than most playgrounds, though. It had all kinds of neat places to play, and far corners to explore. It wasn’t an overly large pasture I think, but when I was little it seemed like the other side was very far away.
On the edge up close to the house, was a little shelter for the cows to go in when it was cold. Of course, that made a nice little play-house for us. After a while it got torn down though. Probably it was close to falling down anyway.
Near the shelter was a big old tree. I don’t know what kind of tree it was, but it was huge. The lowest branch of the tree must have been a good six or eight feet off the ground, much too high for us to reach. That didn’t stop us from climbing it, though. We found a long, heavy board and propped it up in the crook of the tree, and would kind of shinny up it. That was as high as we could go, but we didn’t mind, it was very roomy. Not quite as roomy as we thought, however. One time Bobbi, Kevin, and I all tried to get up there at the same time. I ended up falling out and breaking both of my arms. I was in kindergarten at the time. I don’t really remember climbing the tree anymore after that.
At the corner of the pasture nearest our house, was kind of a separate fenced in area. I guess that’s where they would put the cows if they needed to be branded or something. There was a cattle chute on one side, to let the cows in or out. On the other side was a huge and heavy wooden gate. The gate hadn’t been used for a long time and it leaned to one side. I remember pulling the gate back as far as I could, it was very heavy, then hopping on and riding it as it swung back the other way. That was quite a thrilling ride, but always too short.
In this same area was a small feeding pen. I think that’s what it was anyway. It was a square enclosure, maybe twelve feet on a side, constructed of very heavy planks of wood. It was really nothing more than a wooden fence; the hay would go in the middle and the cows could stick their heads in between the boards to eat. I have no idea why the hay had to be inside a pen, but it was fun to tightrope walk around the top of it. I don’t think I ever went in the middle of it, though. The grass was always very tall in there, and who knows what might have been lurking in there; snakes maybe, or monsters.
Somewhere in the pasture, we could always find the wheels. They were old wagon wheels or something, just a pair of metal spoked wheels connected across the middle by a bar. We would grab on to that bar and just take off running. The next thing we knew, we were clear across the pasture and had to walk all the way home. Not very far, but like I said, it seemed like a long trip back then. Those wheels were a lot of fun.
There was a low spot in the pasture that would fill with water if it rained enough. We didn’t play in the water because it was dirty, but in the winter it would freeze over and we had our own little skating pond.
Somewhere out in the middle of the pasture was a roll of some kind of fencing material. It had been rolled into a bale and just discarded out there. The roll was kind of flattened on top, but it was still very springy. You could jump on it and go flying off. I also remember one time I tied my kite string onto it and just laid back on the ground, looking up into the bright summer sky as the kite soared overhead.
On the far side of the pasture, was a wooded area. Lots of trees with a little creek, or crick if you prefer, running through it. That always felt like such a magical and secret place. When you’re a kid, any place that grownups never go seems magical and secret, I guess.
I can’t imagine how many hours we must have spent playing in the pasture. The corn field was fun, but it was only there for a few months. The pasture was always there, waiting to give up its secrets to us. You just never knew what you might find; strangely shaped artifacts of rusty iron half-buried in the earth, or overgrown by a clump of weeds. Sometimes it felt like you were exploring the ruins of a vanished civilization, finding relics and trying to decipher what they might have been used for.
Ah, those were the good old days. Time gets away from us, somehow; we grow older and our priorities change. As children, we spent most of our time pursuing the things that made us happy, scheming to try to get a little more than our brothers or sisters or classmates. But then we grow up and, well, hummmm, maybe our priorities don’t change so much after all. I guess sometimes we forget that we’re supposed to be looking out for eachother, helping each other. Maybe it’s time, finally, to leave our childhood behind.
Romans 13:11 And that, knowing the time, that now it is high time to awake out of sleep: for now is our salvation nearer than when we believed.
One of my favorite places to play when I was a child, aside from the corn field, was our cow pasture. Our pasture hardly ever had any cows in it, so it became our own personal playground. It was way better than most playgrounds, though. It had all kinds of neat places to play, and far corners to explore. It wasn’t an overly large pasture I think, but when I was little it seemed like the other side was very far away.
On the edge up close to the house, was a little shelter for the cows to go in when it was cold. Of course, that made a nice little play-house for us. After a while it got torn down though. Probably it was close to falling down anyway.
Near the shelter was a big old tree. I don’t know what kind of tree it was, but it was huge. The lowest branch of the tree must have been a good six or eight feet off the ground, much too high for us to reach. That didn’t stop us from climbing it, though. We found a long, heavy board and propped it up in the crook of the tree, and would kind of shinny up it. That was as high as we could go, but we didn’t mind, it was very roomy. Not quite as roomy as we thought, however. One time Bobbi, Kevin, and I all tried to get up there at the same time. I ended up falling out and breaking both of my arms. I was in kindergarten at the time. I don’t really remember climbing the tree anymore after that.
At the corner of the pasture nearest our house, was kind of a separate fenced in area. I guess that’s where they would put the cows if they needed to be branded or something. There was a cattle chute on one side, to let the cows in or out. On the other side was a huge and heavy wooden gate. The gate hadn’t been used for a long time and it leaned to one side. I remember pulling the gate back as far as I could, it was very heavy, then hopping on and riding it as it swung back the other way. That was quite a thrilling ride, but always too short.
In this same area was a small feeding pen. I think that’s what it was anyway. It was a square enclosure, maybe twelve feet on a side, constructed of very heavy planks of wood. It was really nothing more than a wooden fence; the hay would go in the middle and the cows could stick their heads in between the boards to eat. I have no idea why the hay had to be inside a pen, but it was fun to tightrope walk around the top of it. I don’t think I ever went in the middle of it, though. The grass was always very tall in there, and who knows what might have been lurking in there; snakes maybe, or monsters.
Somewhere in the pasture, we could always find the wheels. They were old wagon wheels or something, just a pair of metal spoked wheels connected across the middle by a bar. We would grab on to that bar and just take off running. The next thing we knew, we were clear across the pasture and had to walk all the way home. Not very far, but like I said, it seemed like a long trip back then. Those wheels were a lot of fun.
There was a low spot in the pasture that would fill with water if it rained enough. We didn’t play in the water because it was dirty, but in the winter it would freeze over and we had our own little skating pond.
Somewhere out in the middle of the pasture was a roll of some kind of fencing material. It had been rolled into a bale and just discarded out there. The roll was kind of flattened on top, but it was still very springy. You could jump on it and go flying off. I also remember one time I tied my kite string onto it and just laid back on the ground, looking up into the bright summer sky as the kite soared overhead.
On the far side of the pasture, was a wooded area. Lots of trees with a little creek, or crick if you prefer, running through it. That always felt like such a magical and secret place. When you’re a kid, any place that grownups never go seems magical and secret, I guess.
I can’t imagine how many hours we must have spent playing in the pasture. The corn field was fun, but it was only there for a few months. The pasture was always there, waiting to give up its secrets to us. You just never knew what you might find; strangely shaped artifacts of rusty iron half-buried in the earth, or overgrown by a clump of weeds. Sometimes it felt like you were exploring the ruins of a vanished civilization, finding relics and trying to decipher what they might have been used for.
Ah, those were the good old days. Time gets away from us, somehow; we grow older and our priorities change. As children, we spent most of our time pursuing the things that made us happy, scheming to try to get a little more than our brothers or sisters or classmates. But then we grow up and, well, hummmm, maybe our priorities don’t change so much after all. I guess sometimes we forget that we’re supposed to be looking out for eachother, helping each other. Maybe it’s time, finally, to leave our childhood behind.
Romans 13:11 And that, knowing the time, that now it is high time to awake out of sleep: for now is our salvation nearer than when we believed.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Dream Diary - Pool Tournament
I had a pretty strange dream last night. It had something to do with my blindness so it caught my attention more than most dreams I have.
In the dream, I was in this bar *& grill that I worked in as a cook a long time ago. The owner of the bar used to hold these little pool tournaments, and that’s what was happening in the dream. I was playing in the tournament, along with my brother Kevin, my friend Jon Nutter, and another guy named Mark Krueger. Mark was a friend of Kevin’s back in high school.
So I guess it was just the four of us. I was drawing up a playoff grid for us and putting down each person’s initials where they were supposed to play. I was supposed to play in a game against my friend Jon. We were just getting ready to start our game, when the dream skipped a little.
There were some people sitting at tables watching us play pool, and suddenly I was standing there talking to one of them. It was Brian Kroll, someone else I knew in high school but haven’t had much contact with since. He has a beard now, but in the dream he looked the way he did in school. He was asking me about the farm I live on now., and I was explaining that I just live there, I don’t farm it because I’m blind and drawing social security and everything. Then he was saying that he might turn me in because he didn’t really think I was blind, seeing as how I was playing in the pool tournament and all. I told him to go ahead if he wanted because my blindness had been certified by a doctor.
Then I was back to the pool game, but now I was playing against my dad instead of Jon. I was trying to line up a shot, but was havng a lot of trouble. I would look at the pool table, noting the positions of the balls. Then I would move around the table and look from a different angle, but everything looked different. Back and forth I went trying to figure it out. Finally I counted how many balls were on the table. There were six. So I turned to Dad and said “How many balls are there on the table?” and he said “Nine.” The overall feeling was that I couldn’t see the table properly because of my blindness.
Well, then my brother, Kevin, came over to the table and started moving the balls around. I got mad and decided to leave. On my way out I saw a policeman just kind of standng around. I was scared that I would get in trouble because I was playing pool when I was supposed to be blind, and I wanted to aboid going near him.
I made it out without incident, and the next thing I know, I’m driving down a country road going home. I was in the car I had in high school, a 1971 Ford. The car wasn’t running very well, but I wasn’t very concerned about it. I was thinking that if I was going to be driving this car again, I would have to get a stereo in it. It only had the old A.M. radio that was in the car originally. The last thing I remember is thespeedometer. I looked down at it and the numbers going across were like, 17, 33, 63, etcetera, instead of 10, 20, 30. Of course, that didn’t seem odd at all.
I have no idea what any of that means. Such a weird jumble of people and places and ideas. But I guess dreams are that way. I’m a little disturbed by the overall sense of guilt at not being as blind as I should be. I’ll have to think about that.
There’s one more little dream fragment that I want to note, but this was not part of the pool tournament dream. It’s not really clear at all; I just remember something about my high school, my band teacher, pop machines, (or soda machines if you’re not a mid-westerner), and a guy that I worked with at my last job. That guy, Ken, is the significant part. In an earlier post, I said that I didn’t have any friends at my job, but that wasn't completely true. Ken and I would talk sometimes or go to lunch once in a while, although we never saw each other outside of work.
Anyway, Ken emailed me shortly after I moved up here. It was just a quick, “How ya doing" email, and I sent him a quick one back and that was it. Then last week I got another email from him asking me to call him. I've been debating whether to call or not. Part of me wants to leave that part of my life behind and not look back. Also, I hate talking on the phone. I've been saving the email with his phone number, and last night I had finally decided to just delete the email and forget it. But before I did, I decided to ask God. I asked Him if I should call Ken or not, then I closed up my email for the night. Lo and behold, Ken showed up in my dream last night. So I suppose I'll have to call him, darn it. I really hate talking on the phone. Oh well, you gotta do what you gotta do. I'll let you know how it turns out.
Job 33:15-17 In a dream, in a vision of the night, when deep sleep falleth upon men, in slumberings upon the bed; Then he openeth the ears of men, and sealeth their instruction, That he may withdraw man from his purpose, and hide pride from man.
In the dream, I was in this bar *& grill that I worked in as a cook a long time ago. The owner of the bar used to hold these little pool tournaments, and that’s what was happening in the dream. I was playing in the tournament, along with my brother Kevin, my friend Jon Nutter, and another guy named Mark Krueger. Mark was a friend of Kevin’s back in high school.
So I guess it was just the four of us. I was drawing up a playoff grid for us and putting down each person’s initials where they were supposed to play. I was supposed to play in a game against my friend Jon. We were just getting ready to start our game, when the dream skipped a little.
There were some people sitting at tables watching us play pool, and suddenly I was standing there talking to one of them. It was Brian Kroll, someone else I knew in high school but haven’t had much contact with since. He has a beard now, but in the dream he looked the way he did in school. He was asking me about the farm I live on now., and I was explaining that I just live there, I don’t farm it because I’m blind and drawing social security and everything. Then he was saying that he might turn me in because he didn’t really think I was blind, seeing as how I was playing in the pool tournament and all. I told him to go ahead if he wanted because my blindness had been certified by a doctor.
Then I was back to the pool game, but now I was playing against my dad instead of Jon. I was trying to line up a shot, but was havng a lot of trouble. I would look at the pool table, noting the positions of the balls. Then I would move around the table and look from a different angle, but everything looked different. Back and forth I went trying to figure it out. Finally I counted how many balls were on the table. There were six. So I turned to Dad and said “How many balls are there on the table?” and he said “Nine.” The overall feeling was that I couldn’t see the table properly because of my blindness.
Well, then my brother, Kevin, came over to the table and started moving the balls around. I got mad and decided to leave. On my way out I saw a policeman just kind of standng around. I was scared that I would get in trouble because I was playing pool when I was supposed to be blind, and I wanted to aboid going near him.
I made it out without incident, and the next thing I know, I’m driving down a country road going home. I was in the car I had in high school, a 1971 Ford. The car wasn’t running very well, but I wasn’t very concerned about it. I was thinking that if I was going to be driving this car again, I would have to get a stereo in it. It only had the old A.M. radio that was in the car originally. The last thing I remember is thespeedometer. I looked down at it and the numbers going across were like, 17, 33, 63, etcetera, instead of 10, 20, 30. Of course, that didn’t seem odd at all.
I have no idea what any of that means. Such a weird jumble of people and places and ideas. But I guess dreams are that way. I’m a little disturbed by the overall sense of guilt at not being as blind as I should be. I’ll have to think about that.
There’s one more little dream fragment that I want to note, but this was not part of the pool tournament dream. It’s not really clear at all; I just remember something about my high school, my band teacher, pop machines, (or soda machines if you’re not a mid-westerner), and a guy that I worked with at my last job. That guy, Ken, is the significant part. In an earlier post, I said that I didn’t have any friends at my job, but that wasn't completely true. Ken and I would talk sometimes or go to lunch once in a while, although we never saw each other outside of work.
Anyway, Ken emailed me shortly after I moved up here. It was just a quick, “How ya doing" email, and I sent him a quick one back and that was it. Then last week I got another email from him asking me to call him. I've been debating whether to call or not. Part of me wants to leave that part of my life behind and not look back. Also, I hate talking on the phone. I've been saving the email with his phone number, and last night I had finally decided to just delete the email and forget it. But before I did, I decided to ask God. I asked Him if I should call Ken or not, then I closed up my email for the night. Lo and behold, Ken showed up in my dream last night. So I suppose I'll have to call him, darn it. I really hate talking on the phone. Oh well, you gotta do what you gotta do. I'll let you know how it turns out.
Job 33:15-17 In a dream, in a vision of the night, when deep sleep falleth upon men, in slumberings upon the bed; Then he openeth the ears of men, and sealeth their instruction, That he may withdraw man from his purpose, and hide pride from man.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Memories - Grandpa Howard
Okay, for a few weeks now I’ve really been wanting to write something about my Grandpa. Grandpa Howard, that is, who was Mom’s dad. I think he’s been on my mind because his birthday was December 11, close to my own. I never got around to it because there’s just been too many other things to write about lately. Then, right before Thanksgiving, Uncle Butch brought the wind-chime. I mentioned that briefly in an earlier post, but really wanted to tell more about it. The two things are closely related, though, so I can cover both with one blog. I kind of think Grandpa would have appreciated the efficiency in that. Read on!
The first thing that always comes to mind when I think of Grandpa, is the bucket. He had this plastic, bluish-green bucket, nothing special. The bucket had split all the way down one side and about halfway across the bottom. Instead of just throwing it away, he actually stitched it back together. Yes, I said stitched. He punched holes all the way along both sides of the split, then used little pieces of wire to fasten the two halves together. I can't imagine how much time he must have spent on that bucket, and I don't know what he used the bucket for after that. Obviously it wouldn’t hold water anymore. I’m sure he found a use for it though. All that work for a bucket that probably cost less than a dollar. That's the kind of guy he was.
Which brings me to the wind-chime. Grandpa Howard made the wind-chime himself. And he made it out of junk, hahaha. Seriously, though, he started with the metal rim of a paint can to suspend the chimes from. I can't remember what the clapper part was made from, but the wind-catcher part was just a flat piece of tin suspended from a rusty bit of chain. The chimes themselves were made from old shock-absorbers. He cut them to different lengths to give them different tones. The whole thing is held together by pieces of baling wire. An the coolest part is, that it really has a nice sound to it. Who would have guessed that old shock-absorbers could sound so nice. Anyway, I remember the chime hanging on the back of Grandma and Grandpa's house when I was very young, so that's what makes it so special to me. And the way he took all that junk and put it together into something that sounds so beautiful speaks volumes about the man.
Let me see, what else? Mom told me about his coveralls one time. He would wear these coveralls when he was working in his shop or around the yard. Mom told me that when they got a hole, he would patch them up. He would patch them and patch them, until they were nothing but patches. When he finally got a new pair, he would save the old ones to make patches out of. Wow, if only more people were like that. So many things in our lives have become disposable.
Are you starting to get a feel for what kind of man he was? God wants us to be goodand faithful stewards with the things He gives us, and Grandpa Howard is one of the best examples of this I have ever encountered. And he didn't do it because he was cheap or stingy, he did it because it was the right thing to do.
Grandpa Howard died in June of 1982, when I was only 11, making him the first of my four grandparents to pass. I was at church camp when it happened. Mom sent both of my brothers along with a family friend to BRING ME HOME. I remember my counselor walking me up to the dining hall at Camp Merrill, telling me that I had some visitors. That was odd because you didn't typically get visitors at camp, and when we got there I was pleased to see my brothers. I looked to Kevin right away and said "What are you doing here?" But it was Brad, the oldest, who took me aside. He leaned over with hands on knees and said, “Grandpa died last night; Grandpa Howard, and we're here to take you home.” As soon as he said the word “Grandpa”, I was thinking Grandpa Pete, (who was actually great Grandpa Pete, and quite old), but Brad clarified right away leaving me pretty stunned. I had always believed Grandpa Howard to be in very good shape for an old person, and he would have been my last guess. Anyway, I gathered up my things and we left. Mom knew what she was doing. She sent Brad to be the one to break the news, and she sent Kevin because she knew he could make me laugh. Which he did, all the way home. It was kind of a long drive. She also sent family friend, Dan, who was a pretty fun guy. I remember stopping for lunch at Pizza Hut on the way home.
When we finally arrived at Grandma’s house, Grandma said “Oh Steven, come here.” I went and sat on her lap, the only time I ever remember doing that in my whole life. I remember being afraid that I might hurt her because I was too heavy. My cousin Christopher, just a baby of 6 months, was crying and I remember Grandma saying, “I think babies can sense when something is wrong.”
And Christopher is the last part of the story. Of course, I didn’t know at the time, but have learned since how important it was to Grandpa for the Howard name to be carried on. Grandpa had two sons. One has never married to this day, the other married but waited until much later in life than usual to have children. My mother had four kids, but of course our names were not Howard. Anyway, little Christopher was finally born in January of 1982. Just six months before Grandpa died. I truly believe that was Grandpa’s reward for being such a good and faithful steward. He got to stay on earth just long enough to know his grandson a little bit.
What a shining example of how rich and full our lives can be, if we only put God first. I really didn’t know Grandpa Howard very long, and I was too young to appreciate the man he was, but he sure made an impact on my life. I wish I could have known him better, but I’m thankful for the time I had with him.
Luke 12:42 And the Lord said, Who then is that faithful and wise steward, whom his lord shall make ruler over his household, to give them their portion of meat in due season?
Matthew 25:21 His lord said unto him, Well done, thou good and faithful servant: thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will make thee ruler over many things: enter thou into the joy of thy lord.
The first thing that always comes to mind when I think of Grandpa, is the bucket. He had this plastic, bluish-green bucket, nothing special. The bucket had split all the way down one side and about halfway across the bottom. Instead of just throwing it away, he actually stitched it back together. Yes, I said stitched. He punched holes all the way along both sides of the split, then used little pieces of wire to fasten the two halves together. I can't imagine how much time he must have spent on that bucket, and I don't know what he used the bucket for after that. Obviously it wouldn’t hold water anymore. I’m sure he found a use for it though. All that work for a bucket that probably cost less than a dollar. That's the kind of guy he was.
Which brings me to the wind-chime. Grandpa Howard made the wind-chime himself. And he made it out of junk, hahaha. Seriously, though, he started with the metal rim of a paint can to suspend the chimes from. I can't remember what the clapper part was made from, but the wind-catcher part was just a flat piece of tin suspended from a rusty bit of chain. The chimes themselves were made from old shock-absorbers. He cut them to different lengths to give them different tones. The whole thing is held together by pieces of baling wire. An the coolest part is, that it really has a nice sound to it. Who would have guessed that old shock-absorbers could sound so nice. Anyway, I remember the chime hanging on the back of Grandma and Grandpa's house when I was very young, so that's what makes it so special to me. And the way he took all that junk and put it together into something that sounds so beautiful speaks volumes about the man.
Let me see, what else? Mom told me about his coveralls one time. He would wear these coveralls when he was working in his shop or around the yard. Mom told me that when they got a hole, he would patch them up. He would patch them and patch them, until they were nothing but patches. When he finally got a new pair, he would save the old ones to make patches out of. Wow, if only more people were like that. So many things in our lives have become disposable.
Are you starting to get a feel for what kind of man he was? God wants us to be goodand faithful stewards with the things He gives us, and Grandpa Howard is one of the best examples of this I have ever encountered. And he didn't do it because he was cheap or stingy, he did it because it was the right thing to do.
Grandpa Howard died in June of 1982, when I was only 11, making him the first of my four grandparents to pass. I was at church camp when it happened. Mom sent both of my brothers along with a family friend to BRING ME HOME. I remember my counselor walking me up to the dining hall at Camp Merrill, telling me that I had some visitors. That was odd because you didn't typically get visitors at camp, and when we got there I was pleased to see my brothers. I looked to Kevin right away and said "What are you doing here?" But it was Brad, the oldest, who took me aside. He leaned over with hands on knees and said, “Grandpa died last night; Grandpa Howard, and we're here to take you home.” As soon as he said the word “Grandpa”, I was thinking Grandpa Pete, (who was actually great Grandpa Pete, and quite old), but Brad clarified right away leaving me pretty stunned. I had always believed Grandpa Howard to be in very good shape for an old person, and he would have been my last guess. Anyway, I gathered up my things and we left. Mom knew what she was doing. She sent Brad to be the one to break the news, and she sent Kevin because she knew he could make me laugh. Which he did, all the way home. It was kind of a long drive. She also sent family friend, Dan, who was a pretty fun guy. I remember stopping for lunch at Pizza Hut on the way home.
When we finally arrived at Grandma’s house, Grandma said “Oh Steven, come here.” I went and sat on her lap, the only time I ever remember doing that in my whole life. I remember being afraid that I might hurt her because I was too heavy. My cousin Christopher, just a baby of 6 months, was crying and I remember Grandma saying, “I think babies can sense when something is wrong.”
And Christopher is the last part of the story. Of course, I didn’t know at the time, but have learned since how important it was to Grandpa for the Howard name to be carried on. Grandpa had two sons. One has never married to this day, the other married but waited until much later in life than usual to have children. My mother had four kids, but of course our names were not Howard. Anyway, little Christopher was finally born in January of 1982. Just six months before Grandpa died. I truly believe that was Grandpa’s reward for being such a good and faithful steward. He got to stay on earth just long enough to know his grandson a little bit.
What a shining example of how rich and full our lives can be, if we only put God first. I really didn’t know Grandpa Howard very long, and I was too young to appreciate the man he was, but he sure made an impact on my life. I wish I could have known him better, but I’m thankful for the time I had with him.
Luke 12:42 And the Lord said, Who then is that faithful and wise steward, whom his lord shall make ruler over his household, to give them their portion of meat in due season?
Matthew 25:21 His lord said unto him, Well done, thou good and faithful servant: thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will make thee ruler over many things: enter thou into the joy of thy lord.
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Journal - Busy Week
Whew! It’s been quite a week, so I thought I would take a few minutes to describe it. This probably won’t be very interesting to read, this is mostly for me. Someday, I will enjoy reading back over these posts to see what was happening in my life when I was blind. So here’s a recap:
Saturday, November 21: Joni, Adam, and I rode to Kearney, (pronounced car-nee), with Mom to watch Brenna play volleyball. Her grade doesn’t play against other schools yet, it’s really more of a practice with a short scrimmage at the end. I’m discovering that my daughter is kind of shy. That will present a challenge because I’m not very talkative either. I got to talking to Mom about how I’m finding it hard to get any exercise and found out she had an exercise bike in her basement that she wasn’t using. So when we got back, Joni and I loaded it up and took it home. I found out how much out of shape I am because the next day I was sore just from carrying that darn thing.
Sunday, November 22: Went to church today as usual. Pastor Mike gave a really good sermon about being thankful. It’s so easy to get caught up with all the things we want or the things we wish we could do, that we forget to be thankful for what we have. It’s always good to get that reminder. Also, Kylie, (my sister Bobbi’s daughter), turned 15 on Saturday so today was her “family party.” We went over for a little while and had cake and ice cream.
Monday, November 23: We didn’t have anywhere to go today, so Joni spent the morning and early afternoon cleaning. We aren’t expecting any company, but she always gives the house a thorough cleaning for the holidays. I’m not much help with that so I played the saxophone for her while she worked. I got in the mood early this year so I’ve been working on some Christmas music. Later on, I took a short spin on the bike. It's one of those that you can work with your legs or your arms so it will be a good workout.
Tuesday, November 24: Back to Mom’s today. Aunt LeeDel came down from Sioux Falls on Monday, and Uncle Butch drove over from Crete just for the day. We always enjoy their visits, and today was our only day to see them since Butch only came for the day and LeeDel drove back home Wednesday morning. Also, Kevin and family arrived from Arizona at around 6pm. We all had supper together then went over to the school to watch Kylie’s play. It was a one-act of Alice in Wonderland and Kylie played three different parts. She’s so talented!
Wednesday, November 25: Went to Mom’s yet again! Today was our big gathering with all four of us kids, spouses, and all the grandchildren. The house was so crowded! It was a little intimidating because I knew I couldn’t move around through the house without tripping over everybody, so I mostly stayed in one chair all day. I had fun though and Brenna was there so I got to talk to her a little bit. After supper we went over to the church to take family pictures. There just wasn’t room in the house to do that. Mom got her picture of us four kids, the first one in 22 years. It was such a special day but I was totally exhausted when we got home at around 8pm. It’s kind of hard work to listen to so many people all at once!
Thanksgiving Day: Today we stayed home and had our traditional holiday with just the three of us. Joni’s turkey was delicious as always and everything else was great too. We had so many things to be thankful for this year that we hardly knew where to begin. God has been very good to us, fulfilling all of our needs just as He promised He would, and then some! After the kitchen was cleaned up we all just lazed around the house and watched a little football. It was really a nice, relaxing day.
Friday, November 27: Well, another Thanksgiving come and gone. Things are returning to normal, which means it was a pretty quiet day. Had turkey sandwiches for lunch, (one of my favorite things about Thanksgiving), then I took a spin on the bike. I’m up to 30 minute workouts already and no sore muscles. After that, it was time for the Nebraska vs. Colorado game. It was on TV today, but I still prefer the radio because they’re better at explaining what’s going on. And Nebraska won! Go Huskers!
So that was our big holiday week! It sure was great spending some time with the family, but I’m glad the holidays only come around once a year! Seriously though, I am so thankful for all that God has given me. I hope that you are too, and I hope you'll take some time this holiday season to remember those who don't have families, or homes, or turkey dinners. You may not be in a position to help them financially, but we can always pray for them.
Look out Christmas, here we come!
Matthew 5:3 Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Saturday, November 21: Joni, Adam, and I rode to Kearney, (pronounced car-nee), with Mom to watch Brenna play volleyball. Her grade doesn’t play against other schools yet, it’s really more of a practice with a short scrimmage at the end. I’m discovering that my daughter is kind of shy. That will present a challenge because I’m not very talkative either. I got to talking to Mom about how I’m finding it hard to get any exercise and found out she had an exercise bike in her basement that she wasn’t using. So when we got back, Joni and I loaded it up and took it home. I found out how much out of shape I am because the next day I was sore just from carrying that darn thing.
Sunday, November 22: Went to church today as usual. Pastor Mike gave a really good sermon about being thankful. It’s so easy to get caught up with all the things we want or the things we wish we could do, that we forget to be thankful for what we have. It’s always good to get that reminder. Also, Kylie, (my sister Bobbi’s daughter), turned 15 on Saturday so today was her “family party.” We went over for a little while and had cake and ice cream.
Monday, November 23: We didn’t have anywhere to go today, so Joni spent the morning and early afternoon cleaning. We aren’t expecting any company, but she always gives the house a thorough cleaning for the holidays. I’m not much help with that so I played the saxophone for her while she worked. I got in the mood early this year so I’ve been working on some Christmas music. Later on, I took a short spin on the bike. It's one of those that you can work with your legs or your arms so it will be a good workout.
Tuesday, November 24: Back to Mom’s today. Aunt LeeDel came down from Sioux Falls on Monday, and Uncle Butch drove over from Crete just for the day. We always enjoy their visits, and today was our only day to see them since Butch only came for the day and LeeDel drove back home Wednesday morning. Also, Kevin and family arrived from Arizona at around 6pm. We all had supper together then went over to the school to watch Kylie’s play. It was a one-act of Alice in Wonderland and Kylie played three different parts. She’s so talented!
Wednesday, November 25: Went to Mom’s yet again! Today was our big gathering with all four of us kids, spouses, and all the grandchildren. The house was so crowded! It was a little intimidating because I knew I couldn’t move around through the house without tripping over everybody, so I mostly stayed in one chair all day. I had fun though and Brenna was there so I got to talk to her a little bit. After supper we went over to the church to take family pictures. There just wasn’t room in the house to do that. Mom got her picture of us four kids, the first one in 22 years. It was such a special day but I was totally exhausted when we got home at around 8pm. It’s kind of hard work to listen to so many people all at once!
Thanksgiving Day: Today we stayed home and had our traditional holiday with just the three of us. Joni’s turkey was delicious as always and everything else was great too. We had so many things to be thankful for this year that we hardly knew where to begin. God has been very good to us, fulfilling all of our needs just as He promised He would, and then some! After the kitchen was cleaned up we all just lazed around the house and watched a little football. It was really a nice, relaxing day.
Friday, November 27: Well, another Thanksgiving come and gone. Things are returning to normal, which means it was a pretty quiet day. Had turkey sandwiches for lunch, (one of my favorite things about Thanksgiving), then I took a spin on the bike. I’m up to 30 minute workouts already and no sore muscles. After that, it was time for the Nebraska vs. Colorado game. It was on TV today, but I still prefer the radio because they’re better at explaining what’s going on. And Nebraska won! Go Huskers!
So that was our big holiday week! It sure was great spending some time with the family, but I’m glad the holidays only come around once a year! Seriously though, I am so thankful for all that God has given me. I hope that you are too, and I hope you'll take some time this holiday season to remember those who don't have families, or homes, or turkey dinners. You may not be in a position to help them financially, but we can always pray for them.
Look out Christmas, here we come!
Matthew 5:3 Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
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