Grandfather's Way
By Faye Adams
"Cona Faye," Grandfather would say to me with that certain tone in his voice, "You have to do what's right." Then he would be silent for long moments. It was hard to wait for his next words, but I knew there would always be a story.
My grandfather was usually silent in a crowd. Whenever the family gathered, he sat quietly with an amused look on his face, listening to the chatter flowing around him. Occasionally he would inject a "harrumph" to one of Grandmother's comments, the grin on his face widening slightly.
But when we were alone I was fortunate enough to be the recipient of his considerable wisdom. "If you want to milk a cow," he would say as I watched him milk old Red, "You have to learn about cows. And, you must get to know this cow. What does she like? Is she a good mother? Does she give lots of milk? Is she docile, or does she wait until the bucket is almost full and kick it over?" Then he would tell another story, camouflaged to gently drive home his point.
Grandfather's way was to use everyday things as object lessons. He pointed out one of grandmother's rose bushes one evening as we sat on the porch swing. "Look at this,' he said. Could you imagine these roses springing from those brown thorny limbs last winter? It takes great care to bring that beauty to life come spring. First, your grandmother must loosen the soil, add fertilizer and mulch, water it faithfully and check often for insects. People are like that rose bush. It takes time and effort to bring out the best in another person."
Then he looked up at the sky and said, "God has done his part. He made this world for us and furnished it with good things. But they are not ours for the taking, without giving something back. He's given us a job to do. Our work is to take care of those things in our world. It would be unfair of us to misuse the land and the animals who give so much to us."
Grandfather's way of teaching me to share was by his own example. I watched him harvest produce from his garden or corn from the field and load up the wagon, hitch the team and deliver to a neighbor whose crop had been ruined by hail. I saw him spend a week cutting, raking and piling hay, only to offer it to the widow Jackson to winter her milk cow.
I felt important walking beside Grandfather in town. In most families, only boys were allowed to go to town with their dads or granddads but he seemed proud of me and introduced me to his friends. He made me feel safe and loved. He taught me that I could make a difference by doing good deeds and showing kindness to others. That was my grandfather's way.
