g-diddy

*AMMENDED*

Yesterday was my sweet granddaddy’s 95th birthday. Ninety-five! Wow. I cannot begin to wrap my brain around 95 years. He was born 10 days before the Titanic sank, when William Taft was president. He has seen two World Wars, the advent of radio, television, computers, cell phones, Tivo, the Internet, digital cameras, the automobile, the airplane, and the space program. He's been to most of our 50 States (I think the number is around 48-47) and has seen at least five Presidents in person. Six children, 12 grandchildren, lots of great-grandchildren (two more on the way…one of which could be born at any moment ), and a few great-great grandchildren. He has out-lived two wives (at this rate could out-live wife number 3, who is 13 years his junior), a son, a daughter, and two of his grandchildren, and most of his siblings. He has a M.Div, when most from his generation may have only finished the eighth grade. He pastored more churches than I can remember and has touched more souls than we could ever count. He's been a farmer, a teacher, a preacher, a mentor, a brother, a friend. But to our family he’s Daddy or Granddaddy. And he has a quick wit and back in the day he could pray so long before a meal that you’d fear you'd fall asleep. He used to grow the best green beans and cook with lard and a whole stick of butter (and his cholesterol is freakishly good). And he and Nana would keep cans of Pringles in the small cabinet next to the dishwasher for us grandkids. And they were usually kind of stale, but we didn’t care. I can’t eat a Pringle and not think of my grandparents. He taught me to play checkers, and half the games we played he let me win. He doesn't like chocolate, which I think is crazy. But he loves fried apples, so I know we're related after all. He'd get angry when dogs would come into his garden. He could preach up a storm and offer a gentle hug. He has worn powder blue polyester suits with shiny white belts and wide ties. He's driven many white Buicks. He has those sweet old-man softy peachy-pinky cheeks, almost as if he were wearing a bit of rouge. He has offered forgiveness when others have held a grudge. He has a whistle that all of his children recognize as well as they know their father's face. He can make us laugh. He can us cry. He sometimes cheats at Scrabble. He is the patriarch and spiritual leader of our family who, above all, wants us to know and walk with the Lord.

Recently, my Uncle Harold found this photo of Granddaddy’s sister and father, and my Nana’s father. He said it was one of the few times he can remember both grandfathers being together. What a treasure!