Grandpa would be 122 today. As it was, he lived to be 94, and even now I still think of him on an almost-daily basis. I can’t believe it’s been 28 years since he died.
Gramps had a varied and amazing life, and he’s one of the reasons I went into teaching. He only taught for two years, in a one-room, eight-grade schoolhouse, but I cherish the wooden pointer he used and the big brass school bell he rang to call the kids inside.
Back in 1912, he was paid $85 a month and an extra $5 a month to sweep the floors and chop the wood for the woodstove, their only source of heat. I have his original teaching contract to prove it, signed with a pen dipped into an inkwell, stored among my own contracts and certificates.
Every life our life touches changes us, and as Frederick Buechner said, “The life I touch for good or ill will touch another life, and that in turn another, until who knows where the trembling stops or in what far place my touch will be felt.”
Following this thought through, every student I taught in my 30-year career was influenced by my Grandpa, through me, to them, and on to those they encounter. That’s an awesome legacy. Thanks, Gramps!