Editor’s Note: Sometimes we try to make a lesson out of everything. Sometimes the lesson is simply that we can’t figure everyone and everything out. Some things, especially some people, remain a mystery. That doesn’t mean, however, that we should turn aside to find something we can quickly categorize or moralize somewhere else. Life isn’t a thirty minute sit-com. Learning about people, their backgrounds, their hopes and dreams, becomes a way for us to develop a deeper appreciation for the complexities of life and the people around us to who mystify us, yet whom we still love. Before the older people in your life pass on, why not ask them to tell you their story?

    My grandpa was born in 1904 in the Belgian village of Gosselies. His name is Henry, which is where I got my middle name. People call him Hank. Sometimes we call him Hank the Crank. That’s because he can be grouchy. He can also be loving and gentle. Which is why I call him an enigma.

    Grandpa moved to America when he was a little kid. He and his family came through Ellis Island. They moved to West Virginia, and his father worked in the glass factories. Grandpa started school in West Virginia. Like most immigrant families, Grandpa’s family was intensely proud. Never admit you need help with anything. They sent Grandpa to school even though he couldn’t speak a word of English. Today he speaks as well as you or I, though sometimes I catch a trace of Gosselies village in his voice.

    Grandpa was the oldest son in his family. Sometimes his parents weren’t all that gentle — quicker with a swat than a hug. When he was ready to enter the sixth grade, his father said the books cost too much. So he pulled Grandpa out of school, took him to the foreman down at the glass factory, and signed a paper saying Grandpa was sixteen. Grandpa went to work fulltime. He was thirteen years old. He gave his paychecks to his parents. The week before he and Grandma were married, his parents let him keep his paycheck. That’s what families from Gosselies did back then.

    They had three girls. My mother was one of them, along with my Aunt Cathy and Aunt Mary. When Mom was six, she had her tonsils taken out. Grandpa showed up at the hospital with a catcher’s mitt for her. He also gave her a BB gun. He never said so, but sometimes I think he wanted a son.

He can be grouchy. He can also be loving and gentle.

    When World War II came along, he sold the car and bought all the family brand-new bicycles since gasoline was hard to come by. Mom has a picture of them sitting on their new bikes. Considering a war was on, they looked happy. They rode the bikes everywhere — to Knowles Market and to church. Grandpa walked to work. He still worked at the glass factory, just like his father.

    When he was in his early fifties, the glass factory closed down. They didn’t need people to cut glass anymore, since machines could do it. Grandpa got a job working with an architect. He’d taken drafting classes at night. He designed school additions. Then he got a job selling school equipment and traveled all over southern Indiana. After working in a factory since the age of thirteen, he enjoyed getting out and meeting people.

    When I was growing up, we’d go visit Grandpa. The first thing he’d say when he saw us was, “Hello, good to see you. When you going home?” Then he’d take me out to his workshop and teach me how to work with wood. Whenever I made a mistake, he’d get impatient and take the tool away. But when we went back in the house he’d tell Mom and Dad I did just fine.

    After sixty-seven years of marriage, Grandma died. Grandpa lives with a little dog named Babe. Babe still goes to Grandma’s bedroom every morning to see if she’s come home from wherever it is she went. I go visit Grandpa, but not as often as I’d like. The last time I went, he took me out to his workshop to show me his new table saw. He told me it’ll last ten or fifteen years. He’s ninety-one. I hope it goes before he does.

From the book Front Porch Tales, by Philip Gulley. © 1997 by Multnomah Pub., used by permission.

Title: "My Grandpa, the Enigma"
Author: Philip Gulley
Publication Date: June 7, 2001

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