For Papa

It might seem odd for a thirty-eight year old man to still refer to his grandfather as Papa, but grandpa or grandfather always felt too impersonal. No, Fred Jackson was my Papa and he always will be. He was also the most honest, loyal, and hard working man I’ve ever known, and he passed away on November 9, 2009. His body betrayed him over the last several years as it slowly deteriorated from years of heart disease. And unfortunately his mind followed in the last 12 months as dementia caused him to live as much in the past as he did in the present.

His funeral is today and unfortunately I won’t be there. In truth, I think I really said goodbye the last time I saw him a few years ago. It was clear that he was becoming a shell of himself and quite honestly didn’t have much desire to continue living in this world. Modern medicine can be cruel sometimes and it was clear to me that Papa wanted to be done with it. I’m a little relieved that I won’t be there as I can’t imagine my last memory of the man that was my hero being that of a 70 lb body in a casket. I much prefer the good memories…the fun times. The list below is not all encompassing by any means, and it includes things that some people probably find rather mundane, but it’s a list of life experiences that shape my memory of him.

1. The shop. The official name was Jackson Battery & Electric, but to us it was just “the shop”. When we were kids, my sister and I would spend several weeks with my grandparents every summer and much of my time was spent at the shop. I would “help” Papa and he would humor me by letting me mess around with some tools. And I took an endless amount of teasing from the dozens of old men that would come and go throughout the day. It was their hangout and I was in their world…but I loved every minute of it.

2. Chula. Chula started as my Uncle Danny’s dog but somehow she ended up as Papa’s constant companion. And I have to say she was the best dog ever. Well behaved and completely loyal, she went everywhere with Papa and seemed to accept me as an added accessory during the summer. I woke up many mornings at my grandparent’s house to Chula’s stare…no lick, just a stare.

3. Hats. Or caps as most people in Texas call them. When I was a kid, Papa gave me all sorts of caps – generally from Nix Implement or some other random farm equipment or feed store. I didn’t appreciate them once I reached the age when wearing Nix Implement hats were no longer cool and I think that made him a little sad.

4. Rodeos. Most of my current friends would never believe me, but I was quite the cowboy when I was a kid. The highlight of my summer was the Lamesa Rodeo and it was the three greatest nights of the year for me.

5. Bandit. Bandit was Papa’s horse and going with him to the barn after dinner was the perfect end to my day during the summer. Papa would watch proudly as I fed and brushed her exactly as he had taught me.

6. Mimi. Doris and Fred Jackson were married for over 50 years and they loved each other as much the day she died as they day there were married. Papa changed when she died and a day didn’t go by that he didn’t miss her. I always thought it odd that he visited her grave every day when he could still drive, but I guess a love that deep doesn’t fade. I hope my wife and I have what they had.

7. The only grandson. Papa had 7 granddaughters before I finally came around. We always had a special bond as a result, and he showered me with the love and affection that only a grandpa and a grandson can share. It makes me sad that my brother who came around 12 years after me didn’t get to experience the same thing with him.

8. Football games. Papa wasn’t much of a sports fan, but Mimi was. When I played high school football, she would drag him all over Texas to go to some of my games. He never complained or objected when Mimi wanted to visit us.

9. The car. When my sister was 17, Papa bought her a car and drove it to Cleburne to deliver it. He was so proud of it. This was obviously before digital photos, so we had no idea what it looked like until he pulled up in front of our house. It had been described as “sporty” but instead looked like a Pinto on steroids. That AMC Spirit eventually got passed down to me.

10. World War II. Papa didn’t serve in WWII because he failed his physical – flat feet or something like that. But one night he told me a fantastic story about how he left Mimi and his family with the understanding that he was going to the Army and eventually to war. They didn’t have a phone so after he was let go, he couldn’t call Mimi to let her know. So she only found out when she saw him walking up the road to their house. I like to picture how that emotional reunion unfolded, and I think it would make a great short story or novel.

11. The lawn. Papa was intensely proud of his lawn and he didn’t let many people touch it. He would let me mow the back so that it was hidden if I screwed it up. I think I was 17 before he finally let me mow the front.

12. Breakfast. When Mimi and Papa would visit us in Cleburne, the two of us would always go to breakfast early on Saturday mornings. That was just our thing and it was a great time. As I got older I lost interest in it, and I’m sure he really missed it. I would give anything to go back and smack some sense into the teenager that thought he was too cool to have breakfast with his grandpa.

13. Pocket knives. Papa gave me a lot of pocket knives over the years. I’m not sure why as I’ve probably used a pocket knife 5 times in my entire life. But it was something he liked to do. The first thing I’m going to do when I go to Texas for the holidays is try to find some of them…I hope I kept them.

14. Handshakes. When I reached a certain age, probably 15 or 16, Papa no longer offered hugs when I greeted him. He was a man’s man from West Texas and hugging was no longer an option. He would offer me a hearty handshake instead. I had mixed emotions about it at the time because I loved that he saw and respected me as a man, but I also missed hugging my Papa.

Rest in peace Papa…you were the best grandpa a grandson could ask for.