Eulogy

It has been a whirlwind since I got home. I did happen to see my grandfather two days before his death. It was a good tiem seeing him, as he was still in his wily high spirts. I was asked to speak at the funeral, so I thought I would share those words, reflecting my experience with grandpa, my last grandparent.


8th grade. With my elbows on the desk, I brought my head down and pressed my forehead into my palms. I’m starring at the just returned test in front of me, with a big, glaring F on it. I looked around the room to find that other students were bragging to each other about their grades; I continued to silently sulk over this catastrophe of academic showmanship. I thought to myself, “How am I failing this miserably at French? I think it might be generous to assume that maybe one other person in this classroom has any family member whose native language is French, yet I have a grandfather who’s first language is French and the only phrase that I can say confidently is je ne sais pas, translation: I don’t know.” Throw in a last name like Bernie’, I stared back down at my F and pondered the irony of the situation.
Traveling to grandpas, I recall getting excited to try and communicate the little bit of French that I had picked up from class. My father, siblings and I would pull into the driveway, get out of the car, collect our blankets and pillows and bombard our way through the door. Grandpa would always greet me with a firm handshake. As I would get older the firmness of my grip would improve, and then after a few classes in French in my back pocket, I would add a “Bonjour Grandpere” to that handshake. I didn’t realize that would release a torrent of French from his mouth. As he would wrap up his statement that I’m sure was covered in the 3rd class of the year, my eyes would widen, and jaw would drop as I would search my infant French vocabulary for a response. “Uhhh….je ne sais pas.” He would let out a laugh and let me in. I think that the only thing I found more confusing than when grandpa tried to teach me a little bit of French was the first time he tried to teach me how to play cribbage.
Walking into grandpa’s house always seemed “just right,” and by that I mean there was always an extravagant amount of golf knick-knacks scattered through the house, candlepin bowling was on the television (I still can’t believe that sport is televised), a cribbage board ready to go, and the refrigerator was always stocked with Moxie soda. For those of you who have not had the distinct pleasure of enjoying a cold can of moxie, imagine cough syrup and licorice together and then carbonated. I remember drinking a full glass of Moxie without wincing and thinking that it was some coming of age. Grandpa’s house was certainly not tailored to the entertainment of three young kids, but it was something special to be in his environment for a while and enjoy those things that I couldn’t find anywhere else.
But besides gramp’s house and absolutely huge yard (where my siblings and I would tee-off and drive golf balls as far as we could), it was always about being with grandpa. The conversations we had were about anything and everything, but usually ranging from who my sister was dating at the time to who grandpa had a date with that night. I was always impressed with how much his phone rang. But if there was something that will always stick with me about grandpa, it would have to be his ability to keep cranking out jokes. He was continuously keeping me chuckling with some off the cuff remark and sometimes repeated one-liner. Even up to the very end of his life while he stayed in bed, we were moving the sheets to make him more comfortable and somebody mentioned “hang in there grandpa,” and of course grandpa snuck in there “why can’t we just hang out?” I let out a boisterous laugh which grandpa responded, “well, Andrew is here.”
With mentioning grandpa’s state towards the end of his tremendous life, I do want to give thanks and a deep appreciation to Aunt Elise and Uncle Bill, who have made countless sacrifices to ensure that the end of grandpa’s long journey was as comfortable and caring as possible. I know that it meant the world to grandpa to be around family and to be cared for by the ones who love him. I cannot possibly conceive grandpa to have received the care, attention and nurturing that Aunt Elise and Uncle Bill provided him anywhere else, and to that we all thank you so much.
Not many people can say that they have been able to live such an extensive and active life as grandpa, being an icon in a community that he watched first-hand grow into what it is today. He showed characteristics that I continuously try to emulate and carried out a genetic longevity that I’m sure many of us hope to have inherited; a longevity which gave grandpa the chance to see four generations of his making, an extremely rare opportunity which I’m sure was a perfect capstone to a long and rich life. So grandpa, I love you so much and thank you for being the influence you were on all of our lives. I hope now that you are in a place where the cribbage board is always on the table and the moxie is always cold.

Grandpa

So, I am about to embark on a mad dash across the country from Denver to good ole' Simsbury. Some 2,000 miles. Reason being is that my grandfather is dying up in Northern New Hampshire. He is 97, to say the least has had a long life. I tried to talk to him the other day, but it was difficult. He was just saying that he was confused about what was going on and that he didn't remember things to the questions that I was asking him. Eventually he said that it was best if he went. Not much I can say to that really. I was very much at a loss for words. My Aunt is throwing him a party and is expecting the whole family (he is at the top of 4 living, maybe 5, generations) to come to her house where he is staying. It is at noon on Saturday. It will be early morning Thursday when I leave Colorado. He asked me to come see him. I'm going to do my damn best. Hold in there Grandpa.

I am though leaving a grand week in Colorado, full of Uncle Todd, bikerides, suds, conversation and the glorious Rockey Mountains. I'll get to that soon, though if I am going to make a productive drive tomorrow, I am going to need some sleep.

Andrew

D.C.'d!

Noted: Washington D.C. never fails to impress. Never. Ever.

On a very whimsical 400+ dollar purchase, I decided to take the absolute first 5 days of my summer vacation / TFA time-out and spend it in the other city that I had placed as my top choice, along with Phoenix. It so happened to be that one of my very good friends, former roommate and longtime fellow pillager of livers Alex Moore was holding himself a going away party as he was graduating the likes of Georgetown U.

To start, I almost missed the flight and finally crashed the gate of my flight about 9 minutes before taking off. Literally squeezing onto it, I trekked the country airborne and made it to the final destination. It was nice seeing the capitol flying in. The most immediate act was to secure food, which eventually came in the form of a cheese steak from an Asian restaurant near the metro stop.

A welcoming crew was sent to retrieve me composed of some of my favorite I.C.er's Abie, Bevin, Jack, Ally and the ever gracious DTM. The party proved to be as disastrous as advertized with and eventual tackle - takedown from Alex, who I'm sure could only make me out by my blond hair and perpetual flannel (I seriously doubt his ability to identify fine details at this point). Regardless, I caught the shindig at the tail end and didn't get too involved in the imbibing, thought the cheesesteak and catching up with several other I.C.er's such as Big Chris, Amanda, Anna, Ram, Winski, Casey Brown and others was joyous. And watching Alex actually die after trying to tackle me again but only slamming his genitals into a railing also proved to be plenty worth the plane ticket.

The rest of the trip also proved to be solid, with all of Saturday being dedicated to Mimosas and running amock in Adam's Morgan with many of the above names. Sunday was a sad one to start, as I saw off many of the guys and was then left on my own with a backpack and suitcase in the middle of D.C. It was a cool feeling. I got ahold of my friend Bri who lives in the area and we made it over to the International Spy museam which was mega sweet. It was almost like being in the temple from "Legends of the Hidden Temple" as the first part of the place was pretty much a puzzle for every room, though our group didn’t do so well, and I'm pretty sure that our guide was very hung-over, not unlike myself (DOUBLE NEGATIVE KIDS!!!), that one is for my students, who always use them, and hope never, ever read this.

Monday was Abie day, and an Abie day is always going to be one of the most glorious days that ever be. That was the real touristy day, where we checked out the inside of the capitol, saw the national archives (the constitution up-close is a rather commanding parchment), checked out the statue garden on the mall and got ourselves some chow in Foggy bottom (tehe). *Note: As I compose this on the plane, someone is unleashing a fury of flatulence, and I sit next to the window trapped, sickened and impressed.*

Which brings us to today. Besides my consistent late starts to the day (I think I am still catching up on sleep), I was able to scramble over to the newly renovated Smithsonian for American history. It was sweet, though I was only able to view about half of it. Then, metro-ing over to VA for my last goodbye of the trip over lunch with my friend Bri, and then off to the airport, to sit near the farty guy.

Thanks to all those who were apart of the trip. It was soo needed to get some IC blood around me and I will always be grateful for those friends and the fact that I've been nonexistent in the desert for a year now, and I can still come back and rock it with some of the finest people that I have ever met, and damn proud to call my friends.

In closing, major props to two of my best friends; Amanda Butts and the Washington Metro system. Amanda was a very fine host and answered the question of "where am I sleeping" which is one that should generally be answered before embarking on a trip like this, and if the metro system were a woman, I would take it on a very nice steak dinner....I love you.

Aight homies, I have no idea what lies beyond for the summer time. With only a very few amount of obligations, the plan is to get lost park by park across this country. Pictures depend on if I get a camera and messages depend on if I get a car charger, because I am going get as far away from Phoenix as I can. Til' next time, I'll be kickin' it with the farty guy.

Andrew