My Grandpa “Papa Leo” passed away yesterday. He was 89 years old, the youngest of nine children, and lived his entire life in Gordo, AL. He raised two daughters, and spent countless years thereafter doling out twenty dollar bills to grandkids and great grandkids combined.

I still remember how excited I was as a Sophomore at Gonzaga to receive his letter in the mail with a shiny, brand new $100 bill in it. Cash! In the mail! I was a poor college student, and that day I felt like I’d won the lottery.

Over the years I haven’t been able to visit with him in person much because we live so far away, but we kept up with each others ‘goings on’ through Mom. He loved getting pictures in the mail, and was always proud to display them on the wall. I can still hear him telling me over the phone, “You take care, Sister.”

Sister .. that was his name for every daughter, grand daughter, and great grand daughter alike. Smart fella .. he never had to remember any names that way, but it quickly became a term of endearment for his countless loved ones.

He was born in August of 1929, at the beginning of the Great Depression. He learned the value of hard work early, and grew up to be a hard working butcher, farmer and carpenter. He built the last house he ever lived in, and three others during the course of his life, including helping Mom & Dad build theirs. Even though he never finished high school, he had a head for numbers. He never needed to measure a board before cutting it, he could look just look at it and tell you how long it needed to be. And he was usually right too!

His years as a butcher were some of the hardest work he ever did. Back then you would order half a beef at a time, and Mom says she remembers him carrying the entire half a beef from here to there over and over again while cutting it up for people.

In between his work hours, his passion was his farm, and his garden. He was always anxious to get the tomatoes & watermelons in the ground every spring, and antsy if the seeds didn’t come up quick enough.

His efforts were usually successful, and then you’d find him on the tractor hauling a trailer load of watermelons into town to sell by the side of a busy road.

He always held back plenty for surprising friends and neighbors with by leaving them fresh watermelons, cantaloupes, and tomatoes on their doorstep. He never left a note telling them who they were from, just wanting to do something nice for folks. I think he always kept the best ones for his beloved tomato sandwiches though. Each year he must have ate his weight in tomato sandwiches, at least until the turnip greens were ready!

These past few years have been hard on him, and on his loved ones who have watched his steady decline. He was the kind of man that loved being outside working on a project, so knowing that he had to spend these last few years stuck indoors is hard to think about.

I remember him as a steady presence, and someone who you could count on when you needed him. In fact, he’s left such an impression on me that I based the father in my novel on him. One of my favorite scenes is when Copper is feeling like she has to defend her Daddy to someone she’s just met.

*****

“And just who are your people?”

“My people?”

“Your people, your mother, father. Who do you belong to?”

“Oh,” I sniffed, rubbing my nose against the back of my hand, then stopping when a look of disdain came over her face. “My daddy is Leo Carver, he works over at the meat packing plant in Reform.”

Her nose squinched up tight, and her mouth turned down like she was eating dirt. I’d seen that look before. It was the same one Lydia and Anna gave me every day. The ‘better than me’ look. Well that did it alright. I stood up tall as I could, barely coming to her elbows. Jutting my chin into the air, I looked past her downturned mouth to a spot right between her eyes.

“My daddy stays awfully busy these days, on account of being so good at it that everyone wants their animals butchered by him. He even won an award for being the Best Butcher in Beaudry County. Why, we wake up every morning, and there’s a line half a mile long right outside our door with people holding their pigs to be butchered. Mr. Harvey even brought his steer over last week, and he stayed there afterwards like one of them preachers you hear about on the corners, only he was going on and on about how my daddy was the greatest butcher of all time, and how no one else could have done a job that good.”

My ears were on fire. Where was that burning bush anyhow? It could come anytime.

“Well, that’s just ridiculous.” She said, looking me over and pushing her glasses up again.

“It is not!”

Her right eyebrow raised, and I knew I was in for a challenge. I couldn’t back down now. But before I had a chance to add any more to my tale, her eyes softened, her face smoothing around the edges.

“Sure it is,” She bent down. “If you have THAT many people lined up, you should really have them make an appointment. People have better things to do than stand in line for your Daddy, you know.”

What? Are you kidding me? Did she actually believe all that drizzle? I sighed, blowing hair out of my eyes. Well that was just great. Now I’d be burning in the eternal fires for lying to her, and getting away with it.

*****

Rest in Peace, Papa Leo! You left this earth with a greater work ethic, and more knowledge & skills than most people will learn in two lifetimes. Wherever you are, I know there’s a half mile long line of people waiting for everything you have to offer, and that’s no lie!

Your loving granddaughter, SaDonna

(Originally written March 25th, 2019)