My Pop Pop and TuTu
It is no secret that I have been on a home improvement quest lately and some of my projects have included concrete, power tools and immense amounts of manual labor. One of the rewards for all this hard work is the ability to invite friends over to entertain in our modestly upgraded surroundings. So we did. Last night some dear friends of ours joined us for dinner and s'mores and before the festivities got underway we proudly showed off our recent additions and works in progress.
The work in progress is my Pinterest inspired wooden benches. Construction of the four solid wood benches is complete and they are in the process of being sanded and prepped for paint. The husband was impressed that once he sat down on a bench he found it remarkable sturdy. The wife on the other hand was in awe that I had accomplished the planning, purchasing, construction and assembly all on my own. Her amazement only increased when I told her that I didn’t use any plans or how to web sites, just a piece of paper, a measuring tape and a love of power tools. What seemed a reasonable task to me was something she could never fathom doing, which got me to thinking...why wasn't there ever a moment of hesitation or a doubt in my mind that I could pull this off? The answer was surprisingly simple, my Pop Pop.
My grandfather has always been called Pop Pop, a name given to him by his oldest grandchild...me. My perception of Pop Pop has changed drastically over the years. Some were gradual changes while others I can pinpoint to specific events in our lives. I am not sure if it was him changing or me growing up that enabled our relationship to evolve. I can tell you that I am pretty sure that I have experienced just about every human emotion available when it comes to my Pop Pop.
When I was a small child I spent my summers with my grandparents. My mom would drop me off on Sunday night and return to pick me up the following Friday. Those summers are the foundation of some of my earliest memories. I developed a lifelong friendship that I cherish with my grandmother and she became not only my TuTu, but one of my best friends. My grandfather worked during the days but I remember having dinner together every night. He was a large man of few words. To me he ate the strangest things, like peppers and red beat eggs. He put massive amounts of salt and pepper on everything that passed through his lips. He was the only man in a house of four women...five if you include Sandy, the dog. During those summers I can honestly tell you that the man scared the crap out of me. He didn't yell often but when he was angry you knew it and feared it. I don't ever recall him raising more that his voice to any of us, but that voice was scarier than the boogie man.
During my early adolescent years was the first time I viewed him as a man. I will never forget the summer that my grandparents were going through a rough spot. My grandmother was often visibly upset and my grandfather began having more than a couple night caps in the evening. I was old enough to understand what divorce was but naive enough to think things like that didn't happen to grandparents. It was a hard realization that these people were after all, only human. They experienced the same grief, anger and frustration that the rest of us dealt with. They were not above those things; they hadn't earned a get out of grief card. They hurt and that was when I learned that no one was immune to the pains of life. The invaluable lesson my grandparents taught me that summer was you don't give up on marriage. I watched them fight, cry, talk and weather days of silence but they did it together and remain married to this day.
During my teenage years my family moved a great distance away from our home town. My mother had remarried and a fresh start was in the cards. I wasn't around my grandparents that much during that time but they were there for the important stuff. They made the 2000 plus mile drive to attend my high school graduation which meant the world to me. My mother had divorced again and we were about to move even farther away. To say the least, emotions were at a high and my mother and I were constantly at each other's throat. One remarkably rough evening she and I were waging World War 3 and I was attempting to storm out when I was stopped by my Pop Pop. He was still larger than life to me so out of either fear or respect I stopped. He then proceeded to make a quick little speech to me which I am sure was insightful and poignant, but for the life of me I couldn't tell you what he said. I was so overwhelmed that he had spoken a complete sentence to me the actual words were a complete blur. As I said before, he was always a man of few words and this was honestly the first time he had ever spoken a complete sentence TO me. I was so excited by this revelation that I rushed to tell my mom and we laughed over this turn of events and remarkably, World War 3 experienced a cease fire. Not sure if Pop ever knew what he did for me that night or if he knows how he did it, but he showed me his love, understanding and compassion that night and I will forever be grateful.
Fast forward another 10 years to my wedding. I wasn't the first to be married in our family, but I was the first to have a destination wedding. We had chosen to get married in Hawaii knowing full well that some family and friends might not be able to make it. It was important for us to keep it small and intimate and we knew Hawaii would afford us that. There was only one glitch in our plan, my Pop Pop doesn't fly. My Grandmother loves to travel and they have always had an RV and driven everywhere they wanted to go, but there isn't a bridge or ferry that could get that RV to Hawaii. I wanted these two people that have been the most constant thing in my life to be there. I don't know who did what, what back room negotiation were made, but my Pop Pop took his first and only flights of his life to attend my wedding. He loved me more than his fear. I have never felt more cherished and for that he will always be my hero.
Through all these changes my Pop Pop has built everything in our lives. When my Grandmother wanted a family room added to their home, my Pop built it. When she wanted a porch for the house he poured the concrete patio for the front and built a sprawling deck for the back. He was constantly tinkering and building things. Of course, he didn't do it all on his own and usually my father was his faithful sidekick. Pop was constantly ordering him around and somehow my dad would be the one bruised and battered while Pop escaped injury free. Some projects were so big that everyone was pulled in to play a role, but Pop was always the master mind and site supervisor. Over the years, Pop Pop taught us all that anything could be built with time, patience and usually a little bloodshed. In some ways I think that is how Pop showed us all that he loved us. He put up pools and built swing sets for us. He built room additions for TuTu; he created picnic tables so our family had a place to gather. Although I doubt any of us realized it at the time, Pop was building the threads of our lives.
So because of my Pop Pop I believe I can build anything. I can envision projects, plans and creations and I never doubt I can do it. The joy I get from building these things has always amazed me. There has always been a sense of pride, but it went deeper and I could never pinpoint what that was. It is love. Building things is a way to show love. My Pop Pop taught me that and my Pop Pop has built a lot of things for many people. My Pop is a pretty amazing man, he must be because he helped build a woman out of a little girl, and that little girl is a woman that loves to build.
