today, may 18th, was the birthday of my grandpa haines. wallace winfield (he chose that middle name himself, he said, when he entered the service the first time around, during WWII). he would've been 87 on this day.
i think about him a lot, which is natural considering the enormous impact he had -- and continues to have -- on my life. i think about what he might say to some of the decisions i've made, to the course i've chosen for myself thus far. i think he would approve of most of it. not the swearing or whiskey-swigging parts, but he was a gracious human being and would've granted me a vice or two as long as i didn't hurt anyone by them.
i think he'd be glad to know i'm happy. happy with my decisions, happy with myself, happy to wake up each morning still breathing in the precious air none of us are guaranteed. happy to take walks in the woods, happy to dangle my feet out the window of a moving vehicle every now and again. happy to notice the small things in life, which tend to be some of the most important things of all, really. happy to not know everything, to have endless opportunities to learn. he'd be glad to know i have priorities, that i take time for myself but also try to pay attention to what's really important to the people i love, that i read educational books now all the time (well, with the stephen king by my bedside now, almost all the time) instead of james patterson murder mysteries, that i've invested so much of my time -- and passion -- in my education. he'd be glad to see me love, even when it aches a little bit. love, most of all, the beautiful life i appreciate more because he was a part of it, a part of what made me who i am and who i someday hope to become. love, most of all, the characters who've happened onto the pages of my life's developing story, many by accident but each the kind of treasure that matters more than about anything else.
i think he'd also be glad to know i'm not afraid to make mistakes or to be wrong sometimes. if i can practice even a little sliver of the graciousness he embodied in every word and gesture, i will have accomplished something. if i can learn to see what is best in others, even when that best might be more easily/conveniently overlooked, i will have learned a lesson from him. if i can accept people for who they are, where they are, and appreciate the moments that our lives overlap, appreciate moments for what they are and not expect people to be more than they are capable of being (while still maintaining confidence in the fact that what they are is enough), i will have absorbed a lesson from him.
i always thought that, if i ever decided to get a tattoo, i'd get one for my grandpa haines. i know what it would look like, where i'd get it, what size it would be. it would be as un-cliche as possible, i tell myself. my grandpa would reprimand me for even considering such a thing. i can hear his voice reprimanding me. it makes me smile. whenever i was in a sour, childish mood, my grandpa was the one person who could guilt me out of it with just a look, just a word or two. in those brief words were some of his most important lessons. they echo off the inner walls of that cavity where my brain lives, and i hope they always do, especially in those moments when i am tempted to forget how grateful i should be.
i think about him a lot, which is natural considering the enormous impact he had -- and continues to have -- on my life. i think about what he might say to some of the decisions i've made, to the course i've chosen for myself thus far. i think he would approve of most of it. not the swearing or whiskey-swigging parts, but he was a gracious human being and would've granted me a vice or two as long as i didn't hurt anyone by them.
i think he'd be glad to know i'm happy. happy with my decisions, happy with myself, happy to wake up each morning still breathing in the precious air none of us are guaranteed. happy to take walks in the woods, happy to dangle my feet out the window of a moving vehicle every now and again. happy to notice the small things in life, which tend to be some of the most important things of all, really. happy to not know everything, to have endless opportunities to learn. he'd be glad to know i have priorities, that i take time for myself but also try to pay attention to what's really important to the people i love, that i read educational books now all the time (well, with the stephen king by my bedside now, almost all the time) instead of james patterson murder mysteries, that i've invested so much of my time -- and passion -- in my education. he'd be glad to see me love, even when it aches a little bit. love, most of all, the beautiful life i appreciate more because he was a part of it, a part of what made me who i am and who i someday hope to become. love, most of all, the characters who've happened onto the pages of my life's developing story, many by accident but each the kind of treasure that matters more than about anything else.
i think he'd also be glad to know i'm not afraid to make mistakes or to be wrong sometimes. if i can practice even a little sliver of the graciousness he embodied in every word and gesture, i will have accomplished something. if i can learn to see what is best in others, even when that best might be more easily/conveniently overlooked, i will have learned a lesson from him. if i can accept people for who they are, where they are, and appreciate the moments that our lives overlap, appreciate moments for what they are and not expect people to be more than they are capable of being (while still maintaining confidence in the fact that what they are is enough), i will have absorbed a lesson from him.
i always thought that, if i ever decided to get a tattoo, i'd get one for my grandpa haines. i know what it would look like, where i'd get it, what size it would be. it would be as un-cliche as possible, i tell myself. my grandpa would reprimand me for even considering such a thing. i can hear his voice reprimanding me. it makes me smile. whenever i was in a sour, childish mood, my grandpa was the one person who could guilt me out of it with just a look, just a word or two. in those brief words were some of his most important lessons. they echo off the inner walls of that cavity where my brain lives, and i hope they always do, especially in those moments when i am tempted to forget how grateful i should be.
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