In the Midst of Life….

20May/1112

In the Midst of Life….

I see from Instapundit that the Lonely Conservative's mother died. And looking at the time stamp, it seems she died around the same time my grandfather, Wirt H. Cook, died.

My grandpa was an IBM man, and he would regale me of stories of ye olden tymes of working the accounts, back when 3M was called Minnesota Mining and Manufacturing. These were the days when you couldn't buy a computer - you rented it from IBM, and it came with a (FULL) service contract. Well, evidently, 3M had a contract to run the computers 1 shift a day, and it came to Pop-pop's attention they were running the machines around the clock. This was known to the prior guy in charge of the account, I think, but he didn't want to make waves - after all, 3M was the largest account in the office. Do you want complaints? On the other hand, where else would they get computers from? Let's just say Pop-pop made sure they paid their bills in full.

In true IBM tradition, he got moved around the country - from Minnesota to Connecticut to Tennessee to Indiana to Florida. He decided to alight in Orlando as his last stop, with a golf course in the backyard (the 17th green right behind the pool.... he collected a lot of golf balls, or rather, when he took us grandkids out in the golfcart, we picked up a lot of golf balls).

He wasn't Catholic when he married my grandma (Mary Lou Murphy), and he wasn't Irish, but after 6 kids he converted and he definitely out-Irish-Catholicked us all. You had to watch your glass when you were drinking with him - would never let it dip below half, and it made it difficult to keep track of how much you had. My Dad got sick drunk the first time he met Pop-pop, when he was 19 years old, due to this ploy (it didn't help that Dad came from a tee-totaling family).

Grandma Cook left the earth back in 2003, and now Pop-pop goes to join her. Below is how I remember them, a picture from my wedding in 2000:

There are, of course, many more stories. For the past several years, I've been talking with him about business and politics, and writing him letters while I was riding the train to and from work. My grandparents had 6 kids, 15 grandkids, and.... 17 great-grandkids? So far? I've lost count. I'm one of the oldest of the grandkids, and we're still whelping, so that last number may change. My youngest sister had her second child on Mother's Day. We are a fecund bunch.

....and when I see my son's bright blue eyes, I think of the pics of my Pop-pop as the high school football player. When I see Bonnie's moon face, I see those Irish eyes smiling from Grandma. I see my daughter's First Holy Communion, and I remember the pic of my Aunt Mary Pat's First Communion. So while I miss them terribly, I smile and I remember.

L'chaim!

Meep

Meep is a member of the Irish Catholic mafia, having a suspiciously high number of green-eyed, red-haired friends. While she doesn’t have red hair herself [except when she goes into the sun (rare for any vampire)], she does have green eyes. She’s a raving Papist and is a life actuary on the side [i.e., she counts dead people]. An amateur pain-in-the-ass [willing to go pro!], she likes covering retirement, mortality, math, and education issues.

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Dan Collins
May 20th, 2011 - 06:34

That’s a devilish grin. Looks like someone I would have cherished knowing.

Godspeed, Pop-Pop! See you on the other side.

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- Meep
  May 20th, 2011 - 22:10
  
  re: that grin…. you don’t know the half of it.
  
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enoch_root
May 20th, 2011 - 06:56

Amen! God Bless his soul.

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- Meep
  May 20th, 2011 - 22:10
  
  Thanks, Enoch
  
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Lonely Conservative
May 20th, 2011 - 08:58

Sorry to hear of your loss. I’ll keep you and your family in my prayers.

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- Meep
  May 20th, 2011 - 22:09
  
  Thanks, LC.
  
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Bob Reed
May 20th, 2011 - 09:59

That’s a great photo of Pop-pop and Grandma. They both sound like wonderful folks; and they were blessed to live a full life and influence you all both through their lives and as they live on in your memories.

I can’t help but stop for a moment and ponder what a blessing it is to see the reflection of one’s ancestors in your own children. And how that allows you to at once love them for who they are as well as remember the ones you loved so, and who loved you, that came before. It fascinates me to think of watching for any glimmers of reflections of their personalities as well, in your children, as time goes on.

God bless and keep Pop-pop. He’s with God in heaven, and no doubt enjoying seeing everyone he loved who went before him. And God bless you and yours as well, as you deal with his passing; based on what you’ve recounted here, though, it sounds as if you’ve recieved some of God’s grace through your memories and reflections already. I hope that you can help console your other relatives as well.

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- Adam Wells
  May 20th, 2011 - 10:48
  
  Well said, Bob. I know I smile every time my son mentions cheese (about every meal). My grandfather loved cheese (an odd memory, to be sure), and my son’s devotion (when we eat out, he wants to make sure we go someplace with cheese) to it is almost comical. But it’s definitely nostalgic for me even 19 years after he passed away.
  
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  - Bob Reed
    May 20th, 2011 - 11:20
    
    That anecdote was the perfect prescription for a Friday morning smile :)
    
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  - Meep
    May 20th, 2011 - 22:12
    
    I can only laugh when I watch my kids’ antics sometimes, because so many times I recall where I’ve seen it before (and the laughter is more rueful when I realize =I= did that stuff as a kid).
    
    Anyway, I’m sipping some good scotch in memory of Pop-pop. I probably would not have acquired the taste for it, if it weren’t for him.
    
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Jack Prom
May 21st, 2011 - 21:04

Great picture of Uncle Wirt and Aunt MaryLou. Always mischief in those blue eyes with that grin. I remember his stories, especially Grampa Murphy stories and we would laugh until we had tears in our eyes. Very fond memories of my Aunt and Uncle and their hospitality.
Cousin Jack in Minneapolis

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- Meep
  May 22nd, 2011 - 11:31
  
  Howdy cuz!
  
  Oh my, I remember the Grandpa Murphy stories…
  
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