My grandfather turned 100 years old last Saturday, November 10th. Today the Statesman Journal in Salem, Oregon published this story about him. I figured I'd tell you my own version of the story about the centenarian patriarch in my family.
Grandpa was born in Cameron, Missouri in 1907. He was the youngest of four boys -- all of which went by nicknames that had nothing to do with their given names. Grandpa, who was named Lester Orion, went by "Pete" for most of his life.
He grew up knowing Civil War veterans. He was raised in the time of the horse and buggy. And he recalls vividly what it was like the first time he saw an airplane fly overhead.
He continued a long-standing family tradition of being a hard worker and just an all-around good person. My mother's side of the family has been in America for many generations, mostly as farmers.
We had someone come over on the Mayflower. We have veterans representing every American war. And my grandfather, at 100 years old, can pinpoint the names and stories of every one of those people.
Grandpa grew up on a farm. He went to college, graduating from the University of Missouri with a degree in Agriculture. He worked in sales for many years. He built two homes for his family, both in California. The larger of the two homes remains in our family. He built it more than 60 years ago for about $1500. It's now worth more than half-a-million.
He was very handsome in his youth. He stood at 6'1" and had gorgeous eyes and a strong chin.
My grandma, Ora "Lois", was petite and had spunk. She was a pretty blonde. And she was smart. She was among the first female graduates from UCLA.
Grandpa courted my grandmother while she was visiting family in Missouri. She headed back to California and they wrote letters to one another until he asked her to marry him.
I asked him once what it was about her that had him so taken by her. He looked at me softly and said, "We just gelled, y'know?"
I remember their 50th wedding anniversary. At the time I was very little, sipping on Shirley Temples the whole night and coveting cake. I had no idea how much of a success 50 years actually was.
They remained married until my grandmother passed away in 1989.
Grandpa is a good man. He has always had an edge and has been willing to take risks for what he knew was right.
He was working in Chicago just after my mother had been born. My grandmother was tired of the cold and wanted desperately to move the family back to Los Angeles. Grandpa was then offered a job as a vice president in Missouri. My grandfather, full of grit and lacking tact gruffed, "I'd rather be a janitor in Los Angeles than a vice president in Missouri!"
His boss quipped back, "I think we could arrange that."
Grandpa was soon transferred to L.A. -- luckily with a gig better than a janitor's position.
To this day, he still takes risks and does things his own way. A few months after my grandmother died, he married a widow friend from church. The two lived in California until this past February, when Earline felt the need to be closer to family. So, for the first time in about 70 years, my grandfather left California and moved to Minnesota. He was there for just a few months when he realized Minnesota wasn't the place for him. So this summer, he and Earline separated and Grandpa moved to Oregon to be closer to our family.
Let me break that down for you... In his 99th year, Grandpa has moved twice and separated from his wife. Can you believe that? I can never rightly use the phrase "I'm too old" to do anything!
When I was a bratty kid, he somehow let me convince him into buying stonewashed jeans. And then somehow he actually humored me when I taught him how to "peg" his pants. He just gets a kick out of kids I guess. He loves to watch the great-grandchildren run around screaming. He chuckles and says, "Oh how sweet. Such good children."
Something I'm especially grateful for is that my grandfather has the knack to tell a good story. His brain is solid as ever, and he recalls tales from 90 or so years ago as if they were freshly painted in his mind. The other day he showed me two Indian arrowheads he'd found when he was 12 and discussed how they were obviously from a different tribe than the other arrowheads he had.
More than anything though, he's a moral man. He still has hopes and dreams and isn't afraid to be himself or to show love to his family.
People ask him all the time what his secret is to a long, healthy life. He always refers to "good genes" since his three brothers all lived until very late in life. But I think it has more to do with his good attitude and his love and respect for life. He boasted to my mother recently, "I wanna live!"
And he certainly lives well.
I love you Grandpa.
