« Speaking of Avatar | Main | Don’t Believe What You Read »
A Story I Like To Tell
By Dave Klecha | December 18, 2009
My grandfather, my dad’s dad, was probably the more personable, between him and my mother’s father. He joked more, told stories more, loved to talk and hang out. I can’t ever remember him working, in fact, because he retired after 40 years at Ford in his mid-fifties–back when they counted his time served in the Army for WWII toward his retirement. Glory days, eh?
We always knew him, also, as being rather casually racist, in that way that the children of immigrants of that generation often can be. And it’s not that my grandfather hated black people, for instance, he was just basically dismissive about most people that weren’t white Americans. Including, absurdly and most recently, the Polish immigrants who moved in on his street.
He being the son of a Polish immigrant, and all.
Anyway, I can’t remember how it happened, but it was likely my mother pushing him into some kind of defense of his attitude and casual use of the n-word, and he told a story of a guy he worked with at the Ford plant. A black guy, he said, and the best worker he ever had. Only ever missed one day of work. One day! It was July of 1967, and Detroit had erupted in riot around West Grand Boulevard and 12th Street. He got a call from his guy, saying he wouldn’t be into work.
“What’s the matter?” my grandfather said.
“There’s a Sherman tank parked on my lawn,” this guy replied. “I don’t think I’m comin’ out today.”
“Okay,” my grandfather said, “that’s fine. You stay in today.”
I don’t know why it sticks in my head as a particular memory of him. Maybe it’s the lethal absurdity of the image of a tank parked on a working man’s lawn. Maybe it was the sense that he really didn’t hate people, or that there was a nuance and awareness to his out-dated attitudes. Maybe it’s just one of those odd stories that sticks with you for no reason. And I’m sticking it here, so I don’t forget.
My grandfather passed away this morning. He was 88.
Topics: life | 2 Comments »
December 18th, 2009 at 2:21 pm
My condolences.
December 18th, 2009 at 3:36 pm
People are contrary, complicated moral machines. Especially, it seems to me, folks of that generation and background.
My condolences on his passing. It sounds like he’ll be missed.