Monday, December 17, 2012

It's What Grandparents Do

A grandparent's take on the Newtown tragedy.

So it's Friday December 14th, 2012 and Old Whatshername is glued to the TV. She hates it when I call her that, but I'm old and it's hard to remember everyone's name all the time.
She is switching between CNN, MSNBC, CBS and Fox News to get the latest updates (yes Fox News, I was shocked too). I was about to suggest that maybe she was getting a little too vicariously involved when she said to me: "Those children are Jamie's age. What if something like that happened to Jamie?"
Jamie in Wrestling Head Gear
at Schweinfurt Germany
Well, she had me there. Nothing more to say. The grandchild card trumps everything. I went back to reading the paper. But of course I couldn't stop thinking about the "what if something like that happened to Jamie".

Jamie Practicing Fielding
at Schweinfurt Germany

As the day wore on, it was revealed that twenty children had been killed. I was thinking about the parents and then realized that, most probably, each child had grandparents too. When I was that age I had four grandparents who, I believed, thought I was the greatest grandchild ever. Even my grandpa August, who was getting more than a little forgetful by the time I was six. So on that Friday, something like forty grandparents had their hearts ripped out.

The Power Plant

When I was a little boy my Grandpa August and Grandma Bertha lived in Beresford. One day, when I was something like 4 or 5 Grandpa August took my hand and we walked a couple of blocks to the Beresford municipal power plant. At that time, before the hydroelectric systems on the big Missouri dams, some towns like Beresford, and Sioux Falls, had their own power plants. The Beresford power plant was in a huge building, at least to a little boy, along highway 46. As I remember, there were two huge things (dynamos) that made a lot of noise. The men there greeted my grandpa by name, and asked him about me. When we got back to the house, everyone seemed a little excited and were really questioning Grandpa August. I didn't understand what all the commotion was about; I just felt very special that my grandpa had taken me to the big place with the huge noisy things.
My Grandparents Erik August and Bertha, ca. 1950, the barn
where the pipes and fittings were stored in left background

The Well Driller 

Grandpa August had been a farmer near Westerville, a general store owner in Westerville, a dry goods store owner (K and K) in Beresford, and a well driller. He never stayed at one occupation for very long, but identified most with well drilling. My mother always said well drilling was a dead end because once every farm had a well, you were out of a job. Behind their house in Beresford  was a big barn-like building. Stored in the upstairs of the barn were stacks of pipes and pipe fittings. Wonderful stuff to play with but we weren't allowed in there. One time we came to visit and there was a big well drilling rig sitting in the driveway. My aunt and grandmother were fussing about how he was too old to do that any more and that man was just going to have to come and take it back.

The Grandparents

I had other grandparents, Grandma Bertha, Grandma Rachel, Grandpa Adolph; but those are stories for another time. Right now, I can't stop thinking about those forty or so grandparents who lost their sweet little grandkids in Newtown. I hope there are people reaching out to them with some words of comfort, but I know if it were me I know I would be inconsolable. In the next months and years there will be a lot of words about gun control, changing the culture of violence, better care for the mentally ill, warning signs, presidential commissions and congressional hearings; but little of that will matter to the grandparents who only know there is this black hole where their heart used to be.

1 comment:

  1. I found this old picture of Grandpa August and Grandma Bertha, taken in Beresford South Dakota sometime around 1950. I don't know why he was on crutches at this time, probably a sprained ankle or something.

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