I think when you face a situation like this, where someone you love isn’t doing too well, you start to think about who they are and what they mean to you. You think about how long they have been a part of your life and how they have blessed your life. Grandpa Marvin and I are almost exactly 50 years apart in age. For the past 40 years, he has been a part of my life….and for that long time, I am very grateful.
I know, from pictures, that he met me not long after I was born and I know he spent some time with us on some visits to Bangkok at the end of the 1970s. I remember taking a trip to Chiang Mai with Grandpa, Grandma and Mark. Some of my more vivid memories are when we spent time with Grandpa and Grandma in Crow Agency, Montana. I remember the feel and the look of Grandpa’s study in that old house. It had a lot of dark wood and it seemed like a solemn quiet place. I remember bits and pieces of our time there (you know, sometimes memories fade with age!) like Grandma baking her incredible pies, mowing in the large field out back, and maybe even a trip to get some venison. I also remember that going down to Mark’s room in the basement was kind of scary because it involved some kind of trap door. I also remember the vents in the floor and I how I liked to look down when I was supposed to be going to sleep at night and peek in on the family.
I also remember visits to Decatur with the family and also time spent in Findlay, Ohio, visiting Grandpa and Grandma. I also remember them coming to Anderson to see us and spend time with us there. And then, visits in Seattle. Grandpa enjoyed eating at Thai restaurants. He was so gracious to let us rest at his apartment and store our trunks there as we traveled in/out of the city. He also always had Cherry 7-Up in his refrigerator. I won’t see a bottle of that without thinking of him.
So, I think back to all of these memories of times spent together and then I think about what he has meant to me and what I have learned from him.
First he tells a lot of jokes. We always give Grandpa a hard time for his corny jokes, but you know, deep down we love them because they are part of him. Like, “Did you know Paul was a baker?—-He went to Philippi…”
He also is a good story teller. During the last time we were in the States, I tried to call Grandpa more often to hear about his life. I heard some stories and I took notes. When he was young, he joined some older children of the county superintendent and they grabbed a stray cat and a tube of lipstick. They put a red streak on the back of the cat and then let it go. As it raced by an old woman, she started screaming, thinking it was bleeding.
When he was 11 years old he won a skeet shooting match. When he was in the Pacific, in World War II, he loaded bombs. He loaded bombs on Tinian, where one day a special bomb team would come and load an important bomb that would change history. He stayed on for a year after the war ended and helped to drop loads of medicine attached to parachutes through the bomb bay doors of B-29s. Once a shipment got stuck and the door couldn’t shut. He asked someone to hold his knees so he could cut the strap.
He had promised his mother that he would go to church with her if he survived the war. When the war was over he went to revival service with her, but he wasn’t interested in going up front to the altar. On New Year’s Eve (didn’t record the year), he went and got drunk and he got in a bar fight. He punched a sailor and the police were called. The police just drove by and didn’t arrest anyone. Grandpa remembers going onto the cement bridge over the Allegheny River, and he decided that he didn’t want to live that way anymore—getting drunk and fighting. He prayed and decided to give his life to following the Lord.
Tragedy struck when his brother was killed by a drunk driver. The phone call he received at college wasn’t clear and he thought the message said his mother had died. He was surprised to see her when he got home, but then found that his brother, who had been an important part of his life, was dead. That was hard to bear. Grandpa also told me that the driver only spent six months in jail.
He told me how he met Pauline Hawkins from Decatur, Indiana, at Anderson College. His proposal was, “Do you suppose we could spend the rest of our lives together?” They got married three weeks after his proposal instead of the year they considered.
That story brings me to the third thing I admire about Grandpa. He has shown dedication and commitment to the care of his family—especially grandma. I know that as parents, they didn’t do everything perfectly as they raised their family (who does?), and there are definitely some scars. However, I witnessed his love for his wife and how he did such an amazing job caring for her. One time they heard about a Huntington’s patient whose spouse divorced them and left them in a nursing home. This really upset them a lot, because they valued each other and their marriage. Grandpa had to give so much to care for her, but he took that seriously and always did his best. That has been a model and testimony to so many people.
Grandpa has always given to others. He has supported us on the field and most definitely gave us more than he could afford to give. We can’t take that sacrifice lightly. He also volunteered his time helping others whenever he could. He has been a model of how to reach out and give without expecting anything in return. He has volunteered and given of himself continually. What an example!
Finally, Grandpa taught me a game called “got-you- last”. This was an everlasting game of tag. Then we moved on to “tweaked-your-nose-last”. That will always be something I remember fondly and will keep saying to him (and doing to him) until I can’t anymore.
Grandpa, I love you. I got-you-last!
sharonbernhardt 