Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud or rude. It does not demand its own way. It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged. 1 Corinthians 13:4-5 NLT
Sometimes Heroes come into our lives, not the SuperHeroes with magical powers, but the person who can see into your smallness, aloneness, fearfulness, and breathe peace, hope and true love into your situation. That hero was my Grandfather!
Harold Zimmerman Paddock 2/15/1906 – 1/20/1980
My life began with a wonderful, delightful circumstance that I wish every toddler could experience. My parents and I lived in the house directly behind my grandparents, they were always present in my young life. In the morning I would have breakfast with my mom, then walk over to Grandma and Grandpa’s place and have breakfast with them. Lunch worked the same way. I spent as much time, perhaps more, at my grandparent’s home than I did at mine.
My grandfather was very ill all the years that I knew him. He could not breathe well, always wheezed, sometimes gasping for air. His emphysema kicked up at the least amount of dust, even from baby powder in a blanket. He lost 1 ½ lungs to Black Lung from working in a coal mine when he was younger. He had a corkscrew scar that wrapped around his body and he wrapped an elastic cloth tightly around his scars to keep the pain down. I don’t remember his ever complaining.
When I was little he was in bed a lot. I would climb up on the bed and take him my books. He would read them to me, over and over again. One time, I am told, he was very, very sick and he could not read to me. So, I climbed up in that bed, as close as I could get without hurting him, and with my book upside down I read to him. Word for word! I had memorized them from all the times that he had read to me.
Some time later we moved away for my birth dad’s work. Every time we came back to visit my grandparents, my grandfather would take my little hand and we would walk a block to a house on the corner that had a little store in one of its rooms. He would always buy me a package of Butter Rum Lifesavers and a pack of Black Jack Gum, for as many years as I can remember. I have a pack of Black Jack gum on my kitchen table near my computer so I can see it every time I work. Butter Rum Lifesavers and Black Jack Gum. Memories, it always makes me smile.
He always wore Flip Flops, what we called Zorries back then, and in the summer he wore Hawaiian shirts (loose and flowing) In the winter he wore Flannel Shirts, usually blue. Over the last 10 years I have collected a few Hawaiian shirts, and most recently, well over a dozen flannel shirts. I sit and run my hands along the flannel as I work. I knew collecting them was tied to a memory, but I couldn’t make it out for the longest time. It was Grandpa!
Grandpa had a warm infectious smile that turned you sad moments around without a word. Just being near him you knew it would all be ok. No matter what the battle was. Grandpa always lit up when he saw my grandmother. Making her smile was his joy. Grandpa grew flowers and roses for my grandmother, a special gift. He would work in the garden to be sure there were always flowers blooming. Grandma loved them. He made sure that she had a fresh flower in a little juice glass on the kitchen table where she set her plate to eat. Over the last few years Ihave bought myself small bouquets and I always cut a few out of the bunch to put in a tiny vase near my computer. I’m pretty sure how having those flowers made grandma feel, I feel it too.
When grandpa was feeling stronger he loved to work in his shop making wooden gifts for the grandkids. He made me a miniature kitchen hutch, all working doors and a slide out cutting board. He made my youngest brother a beautiful rocking horse. And he made each one of the grandkids wooden chairs with hearts cut into the back. They matched the wooden table that he put together, one for each household. I remember how we all appreciated them back when he gave each one of us our chair – I think I appreciate it more now because I knew how difficult it was for him to even stand up in that shop and make them.
Several years later Grandpa was diagnosed with Retinitis Pigmentosa and his eyesight failed. He could get around the garden and house, but couldn’t drive or read. My grandmother bought the entire collection of Zane Grey Westerns and every night she read those books to him. I never really thought alot about how that blessing did a full turn – first reading continually to us as children, and then her reading to him in his golden years. I think that’s rather beautiful.
Grandpa loved music. I don’t remember him ever singing, but I remember him closing his eyes to listen and smiling, a very peaceful smile. Music played from the moment grandma woke up until they all went to bed. She had so many albums, played on the old HiFi/Record Player. Always music. Grandma loved to shuffle dance around the kitchen and living room when certain songs came on. I remember thinking those were the most peaceful times in my life. It was the love. It was the joy. It was them together.
My strength came from my Grandmother who had to become the family provider and raise 3 strong-willed boys and a strong-willed daughter, my mother. She was the family Matriarch. But my compassion came from my Grandfather. Through all of his pain and illness he was Peace! He saw Hope. He saw Beauty in the sky, the flowers, the music, all of his children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren, but most of all in my grandmother.. Grandpa was love.
My grandparents were C&E Christians, not real churchgoers. Easter, Christmas, Weddings and Funerals, that was about it. They said they were Methodists and that’s where they went when they attended. They never really spoke of God, but they prayed at every meal, prayers of thanksgiving. Grandma brought all of the family together every Easter, Thanksgiving, and Christmas. Their modest home was filled with card tables and folding chairs so that everyone had a place to sit.
The family was very close and whenever there was a need they all came together. When I was 9 my birth father died and my grandparents and uncles drove to where we were, packed us into their cars and took us to live in my grandparents home. My Mom and 4 children moved into my grandparents 2 bedroom home with a Jack and Jill Bathroom. It was tight and it was cozy. I still remember the towering Oak and Walnut trees in the backyard and how we gathered walnuts into nut bags for what seemed like months. They were wonderful to eat, not as much fun to collect and sort.
About 9 months later we all moved into a 3 bedroom home, all 6 of us. We didn’t stay together long, not as long as I had hoped, or as the adults expected. My mother remarried and my grandparents moved to a home of their own. A bigger home where our now rapidly growing families could all come together on Sundays and Holidays.
The family always moved together, always living just a few blocks apart, except for mine. My grandparents and all 3 uncles with their families moved to the small town next to the town we lived in. Several years later we followed my stepfather’s work and moved to another state. When we did the rest of the family moved to a very small town in another state, all of them except us. I missed them so much when we moved apart. I still miss them today, maybe even more than ever.
I came upon a Christmas book my grandparents gave me the year I was born. Such a precious inscription inside. They attended all of my plays, graduations and special events. Encouraged my art, my music and my writing. They were my encouragers. When being a teenager in the 60s was so crazy, they were my strength. Those smiles, the love, the encouragement when no one else did.
They knew that I became a strong Christian, but never knew that I became a Pastor and taught so many, adults and children, about the Bible and Jesus. They never were able to see me publish my first 3 books. They aren’t here to encourage me as I am ½ way through my 4th book. But all I need to do is close my eyes, run my hand across the soft flannel of my shirt and I see their faces and amazing smiles. Everything will be okay!
Thank You God for blessing me with my Grandparents. Thank You for encouraging me to take their legacies forward.
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Written by Linda J. Humes – 12/26/24
Linda J. Humes 