An Afternoon Visit.....

I moved to Central Oregon for a number of reasons. My Grandparents are 30 miles away, the outdoors, the culture, blah blah blah. I also moved away from Colorado Springs to avoid possible future situations that would be considered poisonous. Lets face it- if I had stayed in Colorado Springs and worked at the restaurant, life wouldn't be as enjoyable as it is now.

When choosing a new place to live I chose Bend Oregon basically so that I could start over while being close to my grandparents. Up until the point I crashed my car I would spend alot of time over in Sisters Oregon. My grandparents are a source of unlimited wisdom, unconditional love, and although they can be very old fashion at times, they are almost always right.

Yesterday I had a job interview out by their house and decided I would make a day out of it. I left early to go see them in the house they build in 1992 and where I spent most of my adolescent summers and winters. Upon arrival, my grandmother welcomes me and tells to to go look in the garage where I see a brand new Ford Ranger pick-up. Aside from the color it is identical to the truck that my Grandfather was driving on January 8th this year, when he hit a patch of ice, slid into the opposite lane, and crashed into a state police officer with a combined speed of almost 100 mph. He should have died right there on the highway by the way the truck looked.

After being hospitalized, medicated, and stabilized he was released from a two week stay at the hospital. His face, tattered and torn, his back in uncontrollable spasms, and he has not seen this much agony since his sons death in the late sixties. He is basically immobilized, in pain and uncomfortable. He now has a physical therapist ( or had one, he said "she fired me."), exercises at the local gym and is attempting to strengthen what is left of his 86 year old muscles.

I thought he would be done driving. He said it himself that he is scared of being behind the wheel. To see a brand new truck in the drive made me weary and nervous myself. During my visit I asked him, "So where you plan on going with that new rig, pop?" He was quick to answer that he was going to go to Bend and Redmond, to attend his frequent Mason Lodge meetings, where he is still a very important, prominent official. He is a 32nd degree Mason, one degree away from the top, and a very respected member of the brotherhood.

I quickly respond back to his rebuttal by saying, "Well good Pop, you need to get out of the house and stop isolating yourself." - But I say it with some hesitance.

He tells me about his aching back, how hard it is to get out of be in the morning, how weak he feels even after the gym workouts, and how "Getting old is Hell."

I don't know how to respond.

I quickly try to cover up the sorrow by making him look at the glass half full and tell him that there has to be a reason for him to live or he would have died in that crash. This gives him hope for only a slight second as he responds, "Clay, its time for me to die."

Not the words I was hoping to hear.

I refute. I say, "No Pop, You have to see us (grandkids) graduate college, get married and have kids! You have to wait for great grandchildren sir!"

He chuckles as he produces coughs filled with phlegm and replies, "Hell no! I will be in my mid 90's I don't want to live that long I am miserable." He goes back to his tangent about being incapacitated and having to use a walker and cane.

I had to get him out of his funk. The only way that would be possible would be to have him recall the past- the good 'ol days.

I let there be a silence for a moment as I stare west to the Cascade Range. I look at my watch and have one hour until my interview and 45 minutes until I have to leave. 45 minutes for me to turn my grandfathers day and outlook around.

I shuffle through his chair side table magazines. Among them a Army Ranger publication, A Masons magazine, and others. On top was a blue covered booklet 200 pages thick. As I shuffle through, his cane raises to the table , he places the cane-end on the blue booklet and says, "Thats the best one there."

I pick it up and turn the pages as if it were a picture flipbook like the ones we has in youth. The booklet is filled with maps, maps of different towns in Oregon, and more importantly locations of Masonic Lodges that he is in charge of. Or was.

We talk about how most people my age would not be able to navigate without GPS systems and how technology in poisoning our country.

I now have him talking, which is a good thing. His mood seems to be turning around. he starts to tell me stories as we sit. His stories consist of military experiences, his former leaders/mentors, and people he lead and mentored. Just to have him talk about these things make him proud of who he is. I am almost there- I have him right where I want him, in a better mental state.

I nod, agree and throw in a brief related story.

We are connecting. His voice has more cheer in it now that he has someone to talk to. He sits atop the bench at the organ in the living room, I sit in a much lower vintage chair my grandmother has always had. He is higher than me, looking down on me, and sharing his wisdom. I look on with admiration.

As I check my watch, it is time to leave. I politely stand and stretch as he continues his story.
He wraps it up, he knows I have to leave and he says, "What I am getting at Clay, is that it doesn't matter who you are, what you do or how you do it, if you don't have a mentor who you respect and people that respect you, you aren't goin'."

My Grandfather had many mentors, has mentored many, and earned alot of respect. He has served this world as best he can. He is a man of principle. I love him, admire him, and he has been a great mentor of mine. My respect for him will never die.

As I head for the door, I tell him I will see him tomorrow and look forward to more of our talks.

He is here for a purpose or multiple. I am here to find out what that purpose is.

If he does go, I will know that he has left his mark.

I know this as I left the house that day with a smile and a tear.

I turned his day around.

He continues to turn my life around.