Thursday, September 8, 2011

Grandpa Harry

My Grandpa Harry died when I was in kindergarten.  He had Parkinson disease as long as I knew him.  He wasn't easy to talk to because of the shaky palsy.  His voice was wavery and he was in bed all of the time.  He was born in Oklahoma among the Cheyenne Arapaho people and I remember, sort of, that he talked about Indians.  At least he did enough that I thought he was an Indian.  But, as I say, he died when I was in kindergarten and I have very hazy unreliable memories of him.

In the past few years I have had a reminder of Grandpa when I go up to Quincy and attend Mass at St Francis.  It was the very church to which he was a member, although he never went to church in my memory because, as I said, he was bedridden.  There is a man, an elderly gentleman, who serves as an extraordinary minster at Communion who looks a lot like my grandpa.  I never think of it until I am sitting behind him at Mass and then I start thinking about it.  It makes me wonder about all the things I never knew about Harry. I wish I could have known him.  I say a prayer for him and for my grandma when I go to Mass at that church.

And I have a confession to make.  The last time I was at Mass I had my camera with me and it doesn't need a flash.  I thought very hard about taking a picture of the man, just to remember Harry and maybe compare pictures of this man and Harry. But sanity took over and I remembered that I was at Mass and I needed to be praying the Mass and not taking surreptitious pictures of elderly gentlemen.  So I didn't.

3 comments:

Tami said...

Next time you should ask to take his picture after mass. Ask him if he remembers Harry, or at least stories about him. Who knows, he could be a hidden gem of information.

Mary said...

Harry was born in 1886 and even my dad would be 92. This man wasn't as old as that. But it would be a nice thought....

Tami said...

I bet he wouldn't mind taking a picture with you one bit. I say ask anyway. :)