My Great-Grandfather

My Maternal Great-Grandfather is seriously one of my biggest building blocks of my life. From handed down nicknames, to advice on how to remain a true friend, I have learned a lot from him.

I was lucky enough to know this man. He passed away when I was 13. He was often quite, but there was a lot in that silence. I have stories about him that extend beyond the years I knew him.

My Great-Grandfather was born in 1896 to French speaking parents, both French Canadian who spoke French in the home. My Great-Grandfather was the youngest of his siblings, six in total I believe. They lived in the border area of the Upper Peninsula of Michigan and northern Wisconsin. When he was 8 years old, his father "disappeared." The story handed down was that he went to a business meeting in town and never came home. We believed that he either left town for some unknown reason, or he was possibly killed and body never found. One way or the other, he was gone and the family was left to survive without him. And they did. How? I do not know for sure, but they did.

When my Great-Grandfather was 12, his mother passed away from Tuberculosis. This left my Great-Grandfather an orphan. His eldest sister had just married in lived in a one room house. He spent many nights in her home, but he ultimately moved to where he could find work.

As a child I remember my Great-Grandfather whistling songs from operas. I never knew why until I heard the story of where he went in order to "survive." He moved into Green Bay, Wisconsin. In the winter he would sneak into the opera house to stay warm. He would use the actor's entrance to get inside. I never questioned why this door was open, but I imagine the heat from inside and the standing before the hot candle lights, the actors would be warm backstage and seek cooling from the door. My Great-Grandfather would then go up to the attic and fall asleep listening to the opera below. Some 70 years later, my little ears would hear him whistling arias while keeping busy. A weathered man from years in the sun on a cattle ranch, weathered from experience and hard work, weathered from living through the Depression, weathered from his years of wisdom. This man, this strong, formidable man, whistled with passion and beauty.

This building block story, for both myself and him, is one that reminds us to not judge a book by its cover. It also is a symbol of resilience, grit, passion, and beauty. So often we think of beauty as being something that is refined and intentionally created with design and perfection. Instead, in this man I found beauty of passion, beauty of grit, beauty in the resilience that led him to find his path, and beauty in the story of this building block.