As I sit here and watch the marker blink on this blank page, I am at a loss for how to begin this post. My grandfather, Warren Eugene Kerr, died last Saturday, June 13th at the age of 92. When I received the call from my mom of his passing, I was sad of course, but I immediately felt thankful for the time I was given with such a great man. He was a man from the ‘greatest generation’, a man who fought for our country in WWII, built his home, fiercely loved his wife, raised three children, adored 11 grandchildren, and who lived to have 14 great grandchildren. He was a traveler, a hiker and a talented carpenter.
My earliest memory of my grandfather is a silly one; I remember him chasing me through my home trying to tickle me in search of my belly button. It is because of this that I always tried to wear my overalls when he was around. Of course this would stop him from finding it! As I grew older I begin to recognize something else besides his silliness. My grandfather carried himself with a quiet assertiveness that deserved respect. Although he was always ready to make a joke or to ‘goose’ my grandmother (seriously, he did this ALL the time) you knew that there was a silent secret side of him. Perhaps this came from his time in the service. My grandfather was a pilot in WWII and only towards the end of his life did he begin to tell us some of his stories. It was during the recall of these stories did the serious man arrive. He recalled the moments with meticulous clarity, just like they happened yesterday. Sometimes his recollections brought joy, excitement and laughter, but often they brought sadness and tears to his eyes. Maybe his experience in the war was what made him act silly? It’s possible that his thinking was that life outside of war shouldn’t be taken so seriously?
We all have so many memories of my grandfather, most of them I’m sure include spending time with his children or grandchildren (and great-grandchildren), but what gets me the most is the simple ones. I was lucky that he made it to my wedding and I am pleased that he did, but what brings tears to my eyes isn’t remembering that day, but him during the ordinary days. He loved bread with jam, and for some reason I’m thinking he liked orange marmalade. He always took a nap after lunch, every day, and he would hide out in his wood shop when things got too rambunctious at the house. Occasionally, he didn’t know what to say to one of us kids so he would just look at us and say ‘beep!’ Who knows why he did this, but it sure made us laugh! He loved sweets. He loved trail mix, but mostly because of the m&ms. He would walk past the trail mix bowl and pick the m&ms out one by one (with some help from a certain granddaughter in-law) by the end of the day, just the nuts and raisins would be left! He snuck snickers candy bars out of his freezer hiding spot at night time. He was hiding him from his wife, Jeanne. While this may sound gross to some, he usually had cookies in his pocket, just incase he needed a little snack, I suppose. He took great pride in his yard, and he always kept it looking neat and trim; and he wasn’t afraid to keep the vermin away with his firearms.
Every time he came to visit me or my mom, he would check up on the wood pieces he made and had given to us to see how they were wearing. Unfavorably, they would sometimes be splitting, and he would run his hands along the piece where the split was and shake his head in disappointment. (My grandfather didn’t use nails in his woodwork so sometimes the wood glue would split) He did beautiful work; he always drew his plans out, always used cherry wood, worked on each piece individually, and used brass plated hardware from Ball and Ball (a store in Exton, PA).
My grandfather loved his wife. They celebrated their 68th wedding anniversary the day before he passed. Once he retired, they travelled the US together camping and hiking. One of their favorite spots was the grand canyon. They enjoyed each other, they bickered, they danced in the kitchen, and they reminded us all that true love endures all obstacles and lasts forever.
I saw my grandfather two years ago in the spring. He was in a nursing home with his wife, in Denver, CO. I was fortunate to be able to see them for what I didn’t want to admit to myself as the last time. We had a nice visit over several days, and with each visit, I could see them becoming more ‘vibrant’ and more of themselves. They got to meet Owen, and just as I hoped, my grandfather got right down on the ground, vroomed cars and trucks and was silly with him. As we were saying good-bye for the last time on the final day of our visit, my grandparents walked me to the elevator. As the doors closed they stood arm and arm with each other, waving good-bye to us. This seemed fitting as every time we left their home after a visit, they would stand outside of their garage door in their driveway, arm and arm, waving good-bye. When my mom told me that he passed, this was the image that I remembered. I then imagined him standing at his home at 16 Upland Drive, waving good-bye one last time.
Good-bye grandpa, I miss your hugs, your silliness and your sweet-tooth. I hope you’re keeping God’s heaven clear of all the chipmunks.
