As I reach the age of serious retirement planning (5+ years from today), it becomes easy to think about the past and those who have had a profound impact on my life. It is only fitting that the first blog I write be about my Grandpa Bill. This tobacco chewing, cigarette smoking, hat wearing man did more to help me form my view of the world than anyone else. His stories and unique way of sharing life's lessons became foundational for my life.
Grandpa lived the great depression. Cotton mill doffers could be hired for a dime a dozen, and that was the work he did best. When work "played out" at one mill, he would go to the next town, then the next and even the next if need be, to find another job. As was the custom in those days, the hiring mill provided a home in the company village for workers and their children. Granny and their children (my mother included) would pack up all their belongings, and move into whatever house was available in the new place. One day, my Grandpa confided in me that many of their moves came because he often had "disagreements" with his bosses. In one mill, he was forcibly removed after throwing a brick through the window when his complaints about it being too hot to work without open windows were ignored. "I'm a mean man" he would say. "People don't mess with me."
With every move came hunger. And every journey to a new place to find work meant trying to find somewhere to safely sleep while trying to get hired. Grandpa never passed a Salvation Army bucket without putting something from his meager pockets into the kettle. He told me a thousand times that had it not been for the Salvation Army, he would not have survived the "tough years." He was always thankful that they helped anyone in need, without question. His relationship with the Salvation Army continued throughout his life, and that is a story for another post on another day.
FDR was in his estimation, the greatest President our country has ever had. Though his social security pension was small, it was the only pension he had. Many times he told me that without it, he and Granny would be a burden to their children. His pride would not let him be a burden. Before FDR and the New Deal, older folks had little hope of "making it" he said, especially if they worked in the mills like he did. Many continued to work until they could work no more, and then "just died." His stories of friends in the WPA workforce brought the entire era to life for me. This was living history, and it helped me realize just how desperate the times were. It also helped me see those times from a working man's perspective instead of from an historian's.
I was 12 when Grandpa died. To this day, I still miss him. But I am thankful for the lessons learned and the values instilled by his time with me. I only wish my brothers had known him as well as I. My oldest little brother, Steve was only 8 at the time. While Steve was still living, we talked sometimes about our memories of the old man. Glenn was too young to remember much. And Alan and Rhett were not even born. I love my brothers, but I am different from them in many ways. Grandpa Bill's influence was strong, and helped me see the world from a different perspective. That man may have been mean at one time, but this old, odd man treasures him still.
Shalom.
