Whistling

My grandfather used to tell us that when he was a teenager he "worked from sunrise to sunset for two bits a day", riding a horse herding cattle in Minnesota during The Depression. Usually he'd remind us of this when someone was complaining about how much something cost, or how much work they had. He never said it begrudgingly; he was proud of his cowboy days and recognized the color this story, and others, brought to his "Grandpa Biography". Back then, of course, he rarely talked about his past, saying he didn't want to bore us with such stuff. However, as he grew older, and especially during these last few years, he shared more and more stories.

However, what I'll remember about him most, and the image I'll always have of him will be of the strong leader of our family, the person everyone turned to when they needed something... emotionally, financially, or just guidance or to ask questions. He was the one constant in my life, especially my early life. He was full of life and always happy, a strong man who would still get emotional about the plight of a child or the death of a pet. He became the Assistant Superintendent of the school district where I grew up outside of Chicago, and was loved by all his teachers and staff who called him "Dr. Wes" and who knew to expect a hug or two from him whenever he'd visit their school or they were at the administration building.

He was one of those that believed that hard work and "keeping your nose clean" would get you anywhere you wanted to be in life. Even while busy twelve months a year with teacher contracts, teacher recruitment, curriculum, and other stressful school administrative tasks, he still found time for his Lions Club, doing many fundraisers for the blind including selling candy at el stations, writing the newsletter, and even becoming president of his local chapter. He also was the head of the area's American Legion, which, among other things, awarded scholarships to outstanding local students each year. He'd march with them, holding the American flag, each year in our Memorial Day parade, very proud of his students and his country. He was a very patriotic man, having lived the American dream and having fought in World War II for that dream, and it is because of him and his beliefs that I get so incensed when some try to claim love of country and patriotism as the sole ownership of The Right.

Sometimes I'd be at my grandparents' house, and my grandmother and I would always know when my grandfather was home from work because you could hear him whistling from a block away. I'd look out the window and see him walking his usual very brisk walk, Hamburg hat on head, whistling away with a smile on his face as he approached the front door.

That's how I'm going to choose to remember him right now. I wonder if he's whistling again, finally.