I haven't been terribly sentimental about losing the grandparents that I've lost, maybe because they would have suffered to stay longer and also because they lived relatively long and full lives. But this year, I find myself full of a strange nostalgia on this shared birthday, missing the strong and loving presence of these two men who gave their grandchildren the gift of unconditional love. I can conjure up their voices in my head despite the years that have transpired since I was able to be with them in person, and enjoy flashes of pictures... my granddad Croel in his horn rimmed glasses at the head of a well-populated dinner table occasionally sharing profound wisdoms, and my grandpa Quad playing the ukelele or cajoling us into laughs with some silly act. They were great men who worked hard, took care of their families the best they knew how, and who, despite their flaws or limitations, gave their children and grandchildren something to live up to.
Grandpa Croel -- I miss your unassuming, stable and loving presence. I could always count on you to dazzle me with your country humility and ivy-league self-education, especially on all things history. I loved it when you called me "Sally Lou" and told me that you used to call your girls that when they were kids. It was the sweetest term of endearment I'll probably ever know.
Grandpa Quad -- I miss your humor and comedy, and the old-fashioned East Coast sensibility that seemed so exotic to me as a child. You were larger than life, and proved that even mountains could be moved when given enough motivation.
Happy Birthday, Russ and Mid, and thanks for the memories.
Your loving granddaughter,
Lisa/Sally Lou
