This past weekend would have been my late grandfather’s birthday. He passed in 1984, one month prior to my son’s birth.

If some day someone cared to ask about those who influenced me, he would be at the top of the list. He was more than a grandparent. He was a replacement father.

My parents separated shortly after my birth. In the late 1940s and early 1950s, this was an aberration. Yet, he supported me through school with weekly allowances. He purchased my first bicycle, which ironically has the original license plate on it – the same year I was born. Whether that was purposeful or not, I cannot say. And yes, I still own the bike though there are no means to do replace parts for it, but I have toted it from one household to the next over five different states.

His support was even more important when one realizes I have no memory of my paternal grandfather for he died when I was quite young. Heck, there was some thirty+ years between when I was young and in a stroller and my father’s death. That is how long it was between my seeing my paternal grandmother and my father’s funeral.

My maternal grandmother, my grandfather’s first wife, died of cancer before I was born, so, obviously, this man was the only grandparent I had in my life.

He cosigned for my first three cars. He gave me money towards college, though I quite literally worked my way through school. No student loans in those days. A few scholarships and perseverance. A bachelor’s, master’s and Ph.D. He sat through each graduation ceremony and beamed with pride.

He took me on my first vacation; it was to the Jersey shores. His brother-in-law played in the Lawrence Welk band. Doesn’t sound like much to those who were not alive then, but we were able to go to the show. Big time fun when you are about 12 years old.

He taught me how to drive, and “if” (and I am not saying I do) I still have a lead foot, it was learned at his hands. He taught me how to change a spark plug and other things no one can do nowadays for the engines of cars are pretty much a motorized computer. He came to my award programs and loved me in the special way of all grandparents.

For a living, my grandfather built boxcars for American Car and Foundry, but outside of work, one never saw him in anything other than a suit, dress shirt, tie, and a hat. He even wore a dress shirt when he bowled, which was his leisure sport. He was quite good at the bowling. He wanted me to me equally as adapt, but I was purely mediocre, though we had fun together. I would go watch him when he played in the various bowling leagues.

So, this weekend I was missing him greatly. He came from good stock. Hard working people who did what was necessary and without complaint. His generation was the one that rebuilt this country after World Wars I and II and the Korean War. He was remarkably ordinary and ordinarily remarkable at the same time.