My Grandpa

The most patient man I ever knew was my Grandpa. In 23 years, I never once heard him raise his voice. He was kind to everyone. He never had a negative word to say.

They say patience is a virtue. Frankly, it’s not a virtue that many of us possess (I know I don’t). In today’s fast-paced society, patience is even less of a virtue. In many instances, it’s an inconvenience. We don’t want to wait. We want what we want when we want it. In fact, we normally want it faster than now.

Not Grandpa though. He could wait. In fact, he knew how to just be. Grandpa could just sit. Sometimes we’d sit together. We’d talk a little, but basically we’d just sit. He loved to ‘listen to the ballgame.’ He’d come over and he’d want to listen to the game, not watch it. He grew up on radio and he said he enjoyed it more when he could imagine the plays himself. He didn’t need a television to see it. He could see it on his own.

I think it’s from Grandpa that I learned to enjoy simple pleasures: a nice glass of ice water, a Fillet-o-Fish sandwich (a favorite for both of us), sitting in front of the fan on a hot summer day, or listening to stories about the ‘olden days.’ With Grandpa, it didn’t matter what we did, it was always a good time.

Patient, kind and true, my Grandpa was love in action.