Take off your hat, I want to stand up.

Chapter seven: We all loved Grandpa Blair.

We all loved my Grandad. He was one of a kind. I remember him as being old. He had a wonderful and profound affect on all those who took the time to get to know him.

Grandad Blair's. His word was as solid as the sun coming up.
His faith unshakeable.
He would rather lie in golden honey on a black ant hill than let someone down by going back on his word. Once given, it was money. A solid banker's note.

Once when he was challenged with a close dilemma.  Keep his word or turn around on the idea. He laid the problem out like an artist about to paint his masterpiece. He was stuck. The more he pondered the issue the more deeper he became in applied thought. He would rub his bald head with his large cat paw hand. Back and forth, over one side then the other. He was like an overall wearing hillbilly with his hands stuck deep into empty pockets. He had no answer.

Grandad always wore a clean off white shirt with a proper collar. Around his neck he had a tie, not done up perfectly, but a little loose. In a moment of more formal renderings he could pull it tight and cinch it close to his chin. His pants hung loose around a rotund belly held by clips to his elastic suspenders. He always wore a hat when he ventured outside or carried on with his personal business. The hat perched on his head and almost looked too small. The hat was not too small, grandad had a large head. A large bald head. By comparison the grey homburg sat on his head, rather like a parrot sits to the side of the pirates right eye patch. Sometimes you would see the parrot, at other times you would see the patch.

When confronted with an issue or a dilemma
he always turned these situations over to the good book. He would read the bible and search for guidance in the parables of ancient wisdom.

Once he held the problem out there long enough the solution always came to him. The answer was always easier and more to the point than one could have guessed. Sometimes the answer was to have time look after the softer points and money usually took care of the rest.

Grandad had money in two of his front pockets. Bills folded nesting together in what some would call a roll. I asked him about this habit, I said Grandpa why do you have money in two pockets? He responded, the money in my right pocket was for paying bills. The money in the left pocket was his money.

Grandad Blair was a tins smith by trade and a plumber by profession. He was busy all the time. People were changing their heating systems from coal to oil and then to gas. He was in the right business, at the right time.

  In fact my wife, Cynthia's father, Art, had his first job for pay with my Grandad's shop. Art was a mere lad of fifteen years of age. Art looked twenty-five, he was a tall, handsome man, with a strong physical presence. One day while at work Grandad asked Art to go to the bus and pick up a package they needed for an important customer.

Art said, sorry but, no.

What? You have to go, grandad insisted. Art said I have no drivers permit, I am only fifteen. Grandad threw him the keys to the 1953 Chevy delivery truck and said again, please go and pick up the parcels.

Art, once again said, no.

What? Replied Grandpa. He was not used to any sideways talk from his employees, why not?

Art said, he did not know how to drive a four on the floor standard. That was the problem. Grandad said go anyway, you can learn how to drive the standard on the way sort of a bonus.
Art left in the truck and yes indeed he did learn how to master the clutch, shift gears, steer and drive. In fact, Art always loved to get in his truck and drive. That was his thing.

As luck would have it Art even dated my very own mother when she was in high school. She also dated his brother Roy.
When I found out this new information I thought, mmmmmm, mom dated other people. She always said my dad was the only one she truly loved. I believe her, it is just interesting.

Children do not always see their parents. It is not that they don't care. It is because children never think their mom and dad had a life before them.