My paternal grandfather is having a birthday today. He was born on this date in 1888. It's mindboggling to think this. One hundred thirty-two years ago he took his first breath and gave it up in September of 1975.
My grandfather , Joseph Anthony, came from humble beginnings and stayed that way his entire life. His dad was John Deere's personal gardener in Moline, Illinois then moved to Boone, Iowa in 1901. There were ten kids of solid Catholic German stock.
My great-grandfather, according to his son, told the family when you're in our home you can speak the mother tongue. Once you leave the house you must speak English because we're Americans now. I didn't know my great grandfather but I know I would have liked him.
I've mentioned this before but grandpa told me when he had learned to read and write at age seven his dad made him to go to work. He got a job carrying water for the section gangs on the Chicago & Northwestern Railroad. He stayed with them until he retired at age 65.
Grandfather was your typical stern German in appearance but he had his soft side, too. Once, when I was a smart aleck fifteen year old I was at his house with my dad. As I walked in I said, "Hello, Joe, what'd ya' know?" If looks could kill-------and then he broke out into a smile.
Grandpa lost his wife in 1952. He was devastated and carried his love for her into eternity.
He walked to Mass every day regardless of the weather. He took great comfort in receiving the Body and Blood of Christ.
He was a legend and I miss him still.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment