2. Baldness, Cigarettes, and a Jumble

Today is 38 days from the first anniversary of Dad’s passing. I’ve committed to writing 40 stories about him as that day approaches. Forty Steady Stories

At least for a season, who we are is shaped by our parents.

So, it seems fitting that in sharing forty stories about my dad that one of them should be about his dad, who I mentioned yesterday.

I have three distinct memories of my grandad Red. He loved to laugh and was full of life. I loved going up to Bristol, VA to stay with my grandparents and to visit with the Cash crew up there. One of my most vivid memories of Red is him sitting at the small kitchen table at their house in Bristol. I would wake up early and wander to the kitchen where I always found him sitting with the paper. When I came in, he would get up and get me a bowl of Wheaties and I would sit beside him while he worked on the “Jumble” word puzzle. I was fascinated at how quickly he could unscramble the words and put the answers in the boxes and circles. I was even more fascinated that he usually knew the answer to the final clue before even having the letters to pick from. He would pick up his pen, scratch his forearm a few times, fill in the blanks and then finish the puzzle before I finished my Wheaties.

Another favorite memory is when Dad, Red, and I went to Washington, DC together. I think I was around 10 years old. Dad was afraid of heights for most of his life, and so he let Red and me go up in the Washington Monument while he stayed on terra firma and took pictures. Red and I got to the top and then looked out one of the windows. There was a sea of people below that looked like ants from five hundred feet in the air.

I don’t know how I did it, but I almost immediately saw my dad. I exclaimed to my granddad, “There’s Dad!”

He responded with “What? How do you know it’s him in all those people?”

I said, “Look at that bald head right there!” and pointed to my dad.

Red started cracking up when I said that, and he was more than happy to tell Dad that story when we came down. He laughed all afternoon about it.

Now for my favorite memory of Red. When I was about 16, Red was in Charlotte staying with us for a few days. I was so excited when he asked me to drive him to get something at the store. We hopped in the car and I said, “Where do you want to go, Red?”

He responded with “Where’s the cheapest place to buy cigarettes?”

I said, “I have no idea, but we can start at Eckerd’s.”

We drove to the Eckerd’s drug store in Southpark Mall. We went inside and Red asked the clerk, “How much is a pack of Winstons?” I knew from watching Red live life that he was a child of the 1920s Depression. He could squeeze and stretch a dollar like nobody I’ve ever met — except perhaps his son.

I don’t remember the clerk’s answer, but Red shook his head and we left immediately. We stopped at three other places with prices too high, and finally he told me to pull into the Sears Auto Center, which was near the corner of Fairview Rd. and Barclay Downs Dr. The price was so good that we walked out with a whole carton of Winstons, and Red saved a few cents per pack.

That hour-long encounter with Red gave me a glimpse into what his life must have been like living through the 1920s. It gave me a glimpse into where my dad’s desire to save money came from — something that I saw in him his entire life. And it reminds me that whether we like it or not, our lives are shaped — at least for a season — by our parents and grandparents. For some people, that’s a beautiful season of growth and gratitude. For others it’s a tougher season of drought and despair. But for all of us, those people and seasons play pivotal roles in our understanding of people, of the world, and of God.