We Should All Be So Lucky To Be Remembered in Such a Way

Reminds me of my grandfather, in a way; he liked to go out and see the crops. On a summer Sunday when we went to the Farm, he’d drive out to see how the crops were doing, a trip that inevitably included the School Land and the Flax and the Barley. The last two are self-explanatory, of course. But the School Land? From what I’ve learned, they set aside land for schools when they laid out North Dakota, and whether or not a school was actually built on the plot, it was known as the School Land. The only school in the area was to the east of the Farm, across the river, by Harwood proper. My father went there until he had completed 7th grade, and then it was time to go to work, and then to war. I still wonder if today’s 7th grade dropouts know enough math to run a business and fill the back of a placemat at Perkins with tables of figures calculating what’s owed and what’s coming in.

Grandpa would invite me, and my cousins, to tour the crops. I had no standard of reference – couldn’t tell if they were stunted or average or high as an elephant’s eye, but I remember sitting in the back of the car, broiling on the plastic seats, bumping along the county road, Grandpa in the front seat with a fedora on his head and a grasshopper on his shoulder. The hopper only made one appearance, but I never forgot it and have since added it to all memories of Grandpa in rural driving mode. A big green hopper on his shoulder, motionless, along for the ride.

A plain, straightforward man, I think. Always had time to amuse the grandkids. Loved Jack Benny. Smoked Old Golds; had a favorite lighter and a favorite floor-stand ashtray. Stood at the window on Sunday nights and waved goodbye, just as my dad – his son-in-law – stands in the driveway now and waves goodbye when I leave. I suppose there’s a time when you turn away before the taillights disappear, and a day when you decide to wait until they’re completely out of sight. I don’t remember the last time I saw him, but I know where I was when I heard he’d fallen, and died. Had to drive home from college and get a funeral suit. The man who measured me had fitted all the men in the family.

Grandpa was the only man I ever knew who wore a hat.

- Lileks