A Family Tradition

My grandfather passed away after an extended illness when I was five. He had spent the previous year in and out of the hospital due to complication from diabetes. So I am guessing that my only true memories of him coming to visit us at our house occurred when I was three or four. Even though I was very young, I can clearly remember going to the door with my mother and seeing Grandpa standing on our stoop holding three huge bags of groceries. He was a stout man with jet black hair combed straight back on his round head. And he always wore dark pants and black shoes with a button-down shirt. He would peer over the bags of groceries and a smile would break out across his face when he saw us approaching the door. Once inside he would begin to empty the bags onto the counter. Along with the normal groceries would be loaves of fresh baked bread and sweets. The cakes and sweet baked goods were his favorite.

At the time all that really stood out to me was the excitement any small child feels when seeing a beloved grandpa. I don’t remember playing with him or going places with him, but I do remember sitting with him while he and mom talked. I was just happy to be near him. I guess that was some rare understanding that the universe granted me. I had no way of knowing it, but as fate would have it, we would only have a few short years together. I didn’t care what we did, as long as we were together, I was happy. It wasn’t until many years later that I learned that Grandpa would spend literally hours driving to come to visit our house. We lived only about 30 miles from his house, but he was an old man and simply would not drive on the freeway. He wasn’t comfortable driving at that speed so he traversed only city streets which made the normally 35-minute drive on the freeway take well over an hour. But he did it to see us.

I also learned later in life that Grandpa always arrived with those bags of food to fulfill a promise that he made. When he was a boy, life was very different in his village in Germany. His family struggled to survive during the First World War. As a result, he promised that no one in his family would ever go hungry again. Living in America was a great accomplishment to him. His mother and older brother had traveled here by boat, and then both taken jobs to earn money to bring the other family members over a few at a time. They all worked very hard to make a new life, a better life, in this country. He was also extremely proud to tell you that he was an American Citizen. He kept his naturalization papers in his nightstand. They were in a small leather folder, and it was obvious from the wear on the leather that he took the document out often. So each visit came with bags of food to show his love for his family. It was his way of taking care of all of us and continuing the good life that his family had here in America.

My only other memories of Grandpa are from the last year of his life. He was still a large man, broad and strong with big hands, but I don’t recall his height. He was always in bed, sitting in a chair or in his wheelchair. But to a young child, that made no difference. He was still Grandpa, and he still smiled at me whenever I walked into the room. The only difference was that he was wearing his pajamas. Looking back, I realize how difficult it must have been for this man who only wanted to take care of his family, being forced to rely on others for even his most basic care. But he never showed anger because of the situation he was facing, he still felt he was living a good life. And he was thankful and appreciative to be surrounded by his family.

Grandpa would be very proud to know that his tradition was continued by my own father, a man who also adored Grandpa. He was the father that my dad never had. Dad had also lived through some very tough times as a child. He knew what it was like to go to bed hungry. He too, made sure that no one else in the family would have to endure that hardship. Many times when my husband and I were just starting out, Dad would appear at the door with bags of food and cases of diapers for his little buddy. He would always claim that mom had bought things that were on sale as buy one get one free and that they had no room for the extras. There would be huge boxes of cereal, macaroni and cheese and whatever else he thought we needed. And very often after his visit, we would find twenty dollar bills hidden under a placemat or on an end table. He knew we wanted to be independent, but he also knew that we needed gas money to get to work. That’s just the kind of man my dad was.

I have been very fortunate to never have to live through the difficult times that my father and grandfather did. And a large reason for that is because they always made sure that I never had to do without anything. I am thankful for all that they and the rest of my family have done for me, and I appreciate all that I have. I look around me and have literally too many blessings to count. Because of my father and grandfather, it is very important to me that I continue our family tradition of helping those I care about and anyone who is in need. I am also very proud that the tradition which was started over half a century ago is one that is understood and appreciated by our family’s next generation as well. It might sound a bit old fashioned, but I believe that charity begins at home. There is no reason that anyone, from the smallest child to the elderly, should ever go hungry. If you have an abundance, please appreciate your good fortune, and share it with those who are struggling and need a little help. Your kindness could be the motivation and inspiration that someone needs to overcome whatever obstacle that he or she is facing.