My grandfather was 64 years old when I was born and 93 years old when I celebrated his funeral. At his funeral I said that my grandfather was a gentleman and a gentle man. I was blessed to have my grandfather when he was older. My memories of him are after he retired. He had the time to dote on my sister and I.
My grandfather was the archetypal Grosse Pointe gentleman. When he dressed up he wore Harry Safrin suits. When he dressed down he still wore a tie. I can remember him working in his garden wearing casual slacks, a flannel shirt and a tie. I see him going hunting wearing knee boots and a dress hat. When we got to the blind the dress hat came off and a hunting hat appeared, but the dress hat was back on for the ride home. He held the door for women and girls. He was very patient with me and my temper when he taught me how to play golf. I never heard him raise his voice. He greeted everyone who came to him home warmly, even if he didn't know who they were. He picked up the tab.
My father, who was grandpas oldest son, was very much like his father. Dad also treated women and children with great respect. He tipped his hat when he passed a church. While dad's temper would flare and an expletive beginning with "s" was quick on his tongue, he was never angry. It was his favorite word and my grandmother said in frustration one day that it was the first word he ever said. (I am sure she told me this, even if it wasn't true to make a point). While his temper would flare, is would as quickly pass. I never remember my father holding a grudge. He had a great sense of humor and a childish sense of glee. I remember being on vacation. Dad and I shared a room and my little sister and mother shared another. The wall separating the two had a two foot gap at the top. I remember all of us going to sleep and after about 15 minutes dad waking me up with his finger to his lips. He quietly got out of bed, collected our shoes, and began tossing them over the wall like hand grenades onto my mother and sister's bed. That was dad.
When Alzheimer disease began to take its toll, my older sister asked the doctor if, in his dementia, dad would become mean as some patients did. The doctor said that he would be no different with the dementia, "If he was a mean man before the disease, he would be mean with it. If he was gentle, then he would be gentle." If anything, my father became even more the gentleman with the Alzheimer's. His true self, the self he learned from his father, came to the fore. He may have lost his memory but he never lost his gentle spirit.
On this Father's Day I remember and miss these two great gentlemen. Grandpa would be 127 years old this year. Dad would be 100 next month. I pray today that I would have some measure of their gentle spirit.
