What Grandpa Taught

My grandfather would have been 100 years old today. That thought made me give pause, and actually gratitude for the fact that this wonderful man was an intrinsic part of my youth.

I spent many an overnight at my grandparents’ home, when my parents were out late, or if I wanted to spend time with them, which was often as a child. I remember wonderful dinners that were cooked by the loving hands of my grandmother; roast beef, homemade mashed potatoes and green beans or some other kind of green were my absolutely favorite meal, growing up. I remember how the house smelled for hours after, as though the meal was still lingering in the air. I remember nighttime rituals of getting ready for bed, and sleeping on their sofa in the living room. And the one thing that stood out in my mind, most of all, was when my grandfather brought home the Long Island Press, and read me the comics or whatever interesting story had captivated him that issue.

I recall how my grandfather was actually the one responsible for getting my first start with publication and submission of stories. There had been a contest offered by the Long Island Press back then, actually sponsored by Scott’s fertilizer and lawn care products. The contest rules stated that you had to offer a photograph of something green, as well as a paragraph or two that related to the story.

I chose money.

My grandfather had encouraged me to write something about the dollar bill; I had chosen the currency as my “green” item, and he had told me that I would do well to write something relevant. For the life of me, I cannot remember what I had written, but once I pulled out a scrap of paper from his desk and began writing, I was hooked. I kept writing more and more paragraphs about money, because it felt as though the words were flowing out of my fingertips.

When I was finally finished with my story, which is what it became, my grandfather lovingly took it from my little hands, folded it up with the dollar bill, and inserted it into an envelope addressed to the Press. He told me that he would mail it off that Monday, which he did, on his way to his job at Grumman.

We waited a long time for a response. At least, it seemed like an eternity to a seven year old. But, finally, I received a response.

I had won an honorable mention for my entry. I also received a coupon for fertilizer, which I gave to my dad. He told me that he thought I should show the letter to Grandpa. And that Saturday, when we arrived at their house for dinner, I brought the envelope from the Press to show him.

Grandpa was so happy for me that his grey eyes crinkled at the corners. I always loved his smile; the warmth that radiated from it was like basking in sunlight. I ended up trying to give him the certificate for the Scott’s item, but he refused it, telling me that I should keep it for my dad. I’ll never forget the pride in his face, though; it’s something that has stayed with me my entire life.

I began to write avidly after that contest; I wrote every opportunity that I could. I wrote short stories, novellas, even a play. I submitted to Reader’s Digest, but never got published. I was not deterred; I was only too happy to retire to my parent’s den upstairs on the large sofa to write anything I could. As it has been said (and I have it posted on my mirror on my dresser), “Even if it’s crap, just get it on the page.” My father purchased a very old typewriter for me (circa 1920’s), and I typed and wrote at every opportunity. This carried over into high school, and in my senior year, I won several creative writing awards for my work.

I remember the day that the Long Island Press had stopped publication, because Grandpa had related it to me on a Saturday night that we had gone over for dinner. I was crushed; the Press was one of the things that unified me with Grandpa, and I felt like a part of my childhood was dying. I remember how I felt when I found out that the publication had resumed, ten years ago. Grandpa had long since passed on, but it was as though he was still here, letting me know that he remembered how fond I was of our times together, reading it. I was thrilled, to say the least. It’s on my bucket list to have something published by them, and I’m pretty dang confident that it’s going to happen, sooner rather than later.

To this day, I still think of that contest, and of my grandfather’s encouragement. And so, today, it seems apropos to honor him with today’s column. Happy Birthday in Heaven, Grandpa, and thanks so much for all of your wonderful support. I hope Grandma’s making you a fantastic roast beef with homemade mashed potatoes, with sesame cookies for dessert. You deserve the best, because you were the best, and I love you so much.