Bald, short and stocky, prone to standing on his head at odd moments, a cigar smoker, and the kind of guy who "makes babies cry when he rubs them with his whiskers," Gramps might not appear to be the best role model for a young grandchild. In fact, at his funeral, the minister said, "This man was no saint."

 

Gramps never said much about his childhood except to claim that he had lost his hair when he had fallen into a flume, and a worker rescued him as he was being washed toward the giant buzz saws by grabbing him by the hair.

Aunt Ethel's letters to me when I was in  grade school gave me hints about Gramps' early life. "we were orphaned, along with two other sisters, Lottie and Muriel, and a brother, Percy, when Gramps was 16 and I about 13. There was no choice for Lottie and Gramps who, as the oldest, immediately went to work to support themselves.

 

The rest of us children were farmes out to willing families found by Uncle Hector, our Baptist minister uncle. Gramps went to Pella, Iowa as a  student at Central College. He earnes his tuition, room and board by serving as the gym and penmanship teacher there. After graduation, he was hired by the Grand Detour Plow Company in Grand Detour, Illinois, and attended law school at night in nearby Dixon.

 

A letter from Gramps' first employer described him: "Al is an eager worker, very ambitious and one highly recommended as an employee." This was probably a good lifetime description of him. He went on with The Grand Detour Plow Company to Rockford, Illinois as it became J.I. Case, and was named plant manager – a position he held until he retired. He then served as consultant and troubleshooter until his death at age 94, in 1971.

 

I would get to go to work with him every once in a while, where I was impressed with his personal knowledge of every employee we met, from the foundry to the office. He had real respect for the union, even though hhe and they were sometimes in conflict, To my surprise, he admired John L. Lewis, the firey head of the C.I.O. During the awakening awareness of racial conflict and disparity during the 50s, Gramps' reading included works by black authoir including Coretta Scott King.

 

Gramps figures most prominently in my life. Extended family continued to be his ultimate concern. When the War (WW2) broke out, he purchased a vacation home near Minocqua, Wisconsin. My mother and father had recently been divorced, and her two sisters both had husbands (either away at war or involved in the industrial effort supporting the War) as was my father, so the summer home became the three-month gathering place for a very extended family. Gran would preside over this summer household, and the three daughters together tried to agree on the supervision of their children. Gramps would drive up on the occasional weekend when he was able to collect enough gas stamps to make the trip.

 

Those visits were always memorable. We would wait for him to aarrive by gathering on the back porch. There were cheers and yells when his black Packard was spotted  coming around the circle (license plate 375).

 

My being the oldest meant I was called upon to do chores. When he was there, I'd feel that hand on my shoulder about 6:30 a.m., which meant we were to start the fire in the kitchen stove. "I'll split the wood and you find some kindling." I'd start through the woods, searching for the right size sticks that were both dry and would fit into the stove.

 

After breakfast, we'd then often go fishing. His rule was, "A real fisherman does it all: digs the worms, baits the hook, takes off the fish, and cleans it for dinner." And there was no doubt that I was to be a real fisherman.

 

Our other favorite activity was those long, rambling walks we'd take through the acres of woods on his property. "It's time to check for porcupine and lightning damage, and to see how the trees are growing," he'd announce.

 

He and I were also responsible for doing the dished after dinner. For some reason, when I was doing chores with Gramps, I knew that they had to be done right. The expectations were high, and if I didn't meet them, there were some sharp words and the job had to be done over. Also, I didn't want to be late for those sunset deer walks, when we'd go up to the clearing to watch the deer families materialize out of the woods for their evening meal.

 

Other jobs I did less enthusiastically, such as pulling quack grass from the large garden full of onions, corn, beans and potatoes. I'd also haul and stack firewood as he chopped it.

 

Back in Rockford, my relationship with Gramps was a little different. We were buddies who went to the Rockford Peaches baseball Games together. My life ambition wbecame that of being bat girl for the Peaches. The Women's League had been formed when all of the professional male baseball players had gone off to war. To make use of their stadium, the Wrigley family of Chicago developed a Midwest Women's League. Rockford enjoyed one of the teams, The Peaches. Gramps was one of their most ardent fans. He spent lots of time with me, trying to help me learn to catch, but unfortunately I was a disaster at almost every aspect of the game. That is the reason the position of bat girl seemed more within my reach.

 

Aunt Ethel made it clear that Gramps had supported her most of her life. Victims of lifetime asthma and lung disease, she and her husband, Bern VanSpanckeren, moved to Arizona to improve their health. Unfortunately, Uncle Bern died and Ethel never regained her full health, so Gramps saw to it that she had a house and enough money to live on. (Ethel went on to be over 100 years old!)

When my own family broke up, Gramps became a father substitute. He took us out to dinner on Sundays, worked on my math skills with me, came to my piano recitals, and bought me useful (but ugly) winter coats. Our relationship had been a steady one.

 

Gramps' final days were spent playing golf, bridge and snooker, often complaining that "all I do any more is provide transportation for those 'old guys' " – in their 60s and 70s – compared to his own 80s and 90s! He did find time to teach my children all of his old tricks, like standing on his head, winding his legs through a broomstick, and solving math riddles. When he finally became ill enough to spend time in a nursing home, the nursing home, the nurses discovered that he had hidden his clothes under the mattress in hopes of making his escape.

 

A strong churchman, Gramps never preached. He took me to church when my mother was serving as church secretary and had to sit behind the organ pipes and use her stenotype machine to record the minister's sermons.

The poem recited at his funeral was Tennyson's:

 

Crossing the Bar

 

Sunset and evening star,

And one clear call for me!

And may there be no moaning of the bar,

When I put out to sea.

 

But sucha tide as moving seems asleep,

Too full for sound and foam,

When that which drew from out the boundless deep

Turns again home.

 

Twilight and evening bell,

aAnd after that the dark!

And may there be no sadness of farewell,

When I embark.

 

For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place

The flood may bear me far,

I hope to see my Pilot face to face

When I have crossed the bar.