a letter to my grandfather

This is a letter that I would like to send to my maternal grandfather, who was called Pop-Pop by all of his grandchildren. He died in 1990, but there are some things that I would like to say to him. So I am writing this as a letter that I would like to send to him. I wrote a similar post to his wife, who I called Noon, on her birthday in December.

Hi Pop-Pop.

Today is your 105th birthday, so happy birthday.

I regret that I never really got to know you as a person. I remember visiting your home often as a child. You would usually be sitting in your rocking chair on the front porch, or in your chair in the living room. I would say hello to you as I was walking by, often to find Noon. We didn't say much to each other. The longest conversation that I can remember us having was once when I asked you about your experiences in Viet Nam, where you worked as a civilian for the military during the Viet Nam war era. You talked for what seemed like an hour about your experiences. I don't remember you being so animated in discussing anything else. I still have the little jacket that you sent to me in 1966 from Viet Nam.

You now have five greatgrandchildren, four more than when you died at age 85. All of your grandchildren graduated from college, and three of us have advanced degrees, so we were late in having children.

There is one thing about you that always bothered me, Pop-Pop - your racism. Our family is generally mellow, but the biggest argument that I can remember was about your racism. Your oldest daughter, who I'll call Lisa, had one of her coworker's brother die on the job as a police officer. You said, and I cringe writing this, "The only good (N word) is a dead (N word)." She started yelling and you yelled back. She got up and left, and if it had happened now, I would have too, but I was at most 12 years old at the time. You grew up in the segregated southern United States, so I guess it was because of the attitudes that you were taught, but I expect better of my grandparents. But I accepted you and loved you as you were. In some ways, in may have been good that you died before I brought David home to meet the family, since you may not have handled it well. I never officially came out to the extended family, but they figured it out and I've had nothing but acceptance. You might not have handled having two of your three grandsons being gay.

I also worry about what killed you, colon cancer. My mother has had colon polyps removed, so the risk for cancer is there in her. I'll get checked out once I'm a little older.

Near the end of your life, you were worried that Noon was having affairs with other men. That is just ridiculous knowing her. But it seems to be a common fear of men if they have mild dementia, as I think you had. You once told one of your other grandchildren that you thought she was having an affair with my father, and it was all my cousin could do not to laugh at you, since the thought of the two of them having an affair was so outrageous.

You are part of the reason that I named my blog "green ectomorph" and that my email address is "greenandpurplelizard." Your last or surname was Green, but it was originally Greene. I think that it was your father the dropped the final "e" after too many ignorant people tried to pronounce it "Greeny." There were green lizards in the bushes around your front porch, and they would climb up the screens. When I was a kid, you told me that you had a pet lizard named Greeny that you kept outside in the bushes, and every time that I would look for him I would find one. I never caught on that it was a different lizard each time. I do have good memories of spending time with you, but not nearly as many as with Noon.

You surprised everyone by converting to Catholicism just a few months before you died. Your family didn't continue in the church, in that none of your grandchildren attend church now. Yes, all but one of us graduated from Catholic high schools, but we weren't really given a choice.

I hope that you enjoyed your life, Pop-Pop. You never talked about your emotions and were so stoic. It's strange that I don't know if you were happy or not.