
Dear Grandpa:
I wish you a happy 91st birthday today - Saturday, November 8th!
Born in Joliet, Illinois in 1917. Who was president back in 1917? Were you born at home? Who was there to help take care of you and your mother, Great Grandma Buehler? How old were you when your parents divorced? Tell me the story again of the time when you were a hard working 8-year old, taking a bucket of water to the workers building a high bridge, tripping and falling? Somehow, praise God, you caught yourself on the side of the bridge before spiraling to the bottom of the pit where death awaited.
I see you in this picture, ducking so your photo won't be taken. That's not like you. You've never hidden from the camera. In fact, you've always been very photogenic, especially when Grandma was standing next to you. I actually have many pictures of you, but this one is the only one I could find on my laptop. Aunt Diane and Isaac are very handsome behind you, and Uncle Jack is busy at the grill. This familiar backyard in Crown Point, Indiana is full of green trees, geranium flowers, and many Buehler family members.
I have many fond thoughts of you and your home, Grandpa. As a child living in central Indiana with my family, I loved visiting you and Grandma, falling asleep as we travelled and waking up to see the telephone lines above the train tracks along Highway 231. That's when I knew we were almost there! I always cried when it was time to leave, but Grandma would give me a little bag of candy and I'd stop crying. Funny - chocolate still comforts me today when I'm sad. I loved the big back yard with all the tall trees. Loved walking through the tall grass and wild Black-eyed Susans, down the long path, to the pond where my dad would tell me stories of riding his horse, or ice skating on the frozen pond in the winter. I got stung in the eye by a bee when Tim and I and Brian (from next door) were messing around on the side of the garage too close to a bee hive. But the bees next door offered delicious honey for our toast, and honey candy for our sweet tooth. It was this same garage that burned down from lightening, taking the life of our station wagon, your truck, and the precious pet, Dutchess.
I fondly remember watching television at your home in the evenings. You'd finish your meal with a familiar dessert: jello topped with a little milk. Before letting me turn on the TV to watch the Donny & Marie Show, you'd make me have a bite of your jello & milk. Never been one of my favorites. But then you'd shower me with compliments telling me I was more beautiful than Marie Osmond, and I would grow up to be more successful than her. Although I was in a difficult transition at that time of going through puberty and losing my mother to cancer, you were the one who saw through the present and into the future. I haven't forgotten your encouragement!
You were so in love with Grandma and weren't shy to show it. What a wonderful example of love that endures. You gave Grandma a kiss when you woke up...when you left for work...when you came home...when you went to the store to buy some milk...when you got out of your leather recliner for any reason, you planted a kiss on Grandma and never complained about kissing those big lips with the Mary Kay orange lipstick.
You love oreos and milk; pot roast and potatoes; leftover chili and turkey salad; spaghetti and meatballs; late night popcorn and pepsi. You mastered the art of having heated political conversations then agreeing to disagree and parting as friends. You have always been financially generous, even paying for part of my wedding in 1987 when Greg and I didn't have any money.
One tradition we carry through today is playing games with our kids and extended family. When staying with you, I loved searching through the game closet and finding a familiar game we could all play together, sometimes staying up till midnight to finish the game. No television or electronics of any kind - just food, fun, family, and fellowship.
Coming to stay at your home as an adult with my own family has always been such a pleasant and comforting reminder of everything good. You're home has been the one place I could come home to where there was no strife, anger, or ugliness. Although the loss of Grandma still threatens me when I come through the door, I savor the familiar smells and sounds of your home that remind me of many precious memories!
Happy 91st Birthday, Grandpa! I love you! See you in a couple weeks for Thanksgiving!