"Don't Speak Unless You Can Improve on Silence"--Grandpa

The Funeral services for my Grandfather were just beautiful. Friends and Family came from all over to express their love and support to our family, especially to Grandma Stauffer. She and Grandpa made friends all over the U.S. (and the world) during their many travels. The morning of the service was cold and cloudy, but once we were seated in the Chapel, the sun kept brightly shining through the stained glass window and it shone down right on Grandma. I will never forget that. Grandpa was definitely with us.

I wrote a poem for Grandpa a few weeks before he passed. I wasn't going to post it but after Shelly read it during her talk at the funeral, a few people have asked me to share it. I'm glad I wrote it in time for Grandpa to read it.

The back story is that Grandpa always kept this poem by Ogden Nash on the refrigerator:

People expect old men to die,
They do not really mourn old men.
Old men are different. People look
At them with eyes that wonder when...
People watch with unshocked eyes;
But the old men know when an old man dies.

I never liked that poem. Maybe I would've if it didn't constantly remind me of the inevitable. So I decided to write a rebuttal.

"Rebuttal to Ogden Nash"

Nash says only old men know when an old man dies,

But I would have to disagree.

For I have known, loved, and learned from an old man

Who passed his last name down to me.

Many a rose has felt his touch,

And flourished in his care.

And to friends in need he has always rushed

To give some comfort there.

He set foot on every continent

Saw all the beauty the world has to offer

But his heart was always most content

With his grandsons and his granddaughters

We built Thanksgiving pyramids,

And picked weeds in his yard for a dime

This old man has had a constant goal

To never waste life’s time.

Patty cakes and peas porridge hot

Mairzy doats and Rubber Baby Buggy Bumpers

Smelterites we never forgot

Oh Grandpa, there will never be another.

As the years rolled on he held his sweetheart’s hand

and his smiling eyes never faded

His pride and joy of a head full of hair?

Even chemo couldn’t take it.

All the memories that we share,

The stories, sports, and songs,

Generations will know you, when you’re not here

Because we will pass these memories along.

So lest you think only old men know

when an old man’s time is through

I will stand and say that is incorrect

For Grandchildren know it too.

--September 2010