6 December 1918, A Luminary is Born

December 6th is my grandfather’s 100th birthday. Although he succumbed to cancer seventeen years ago at the age of 82, his life is still worth celebrating. I didn’t realize that this year marked his 100th year until a friend visited his grave a couple weeks ago and sent me a picture. Of all the humans I have known, he has influenced my life more than any other. In honor of his birthday, I am dedicating this weeks blog to him.

A luminary is a person who inspires or influences others. A thesaurus will tell you it is synonymous with inspiration, role model, hero, leader, expert, master, lion, legend, etc. These words perfectly define him and who he was to my son Ben and me, and, while I make it a practice to not speak for others, I know I have numerous cousins, nieces and nephews, who likely agree these are spot on.

"Never mistake the power of influence." -Jim Rohn

My grandfather was the epitome of what wisdom means. As a child, young adult and then a parent myself, I held on to his every word. No matter my age, I watched all he did with the faithful innocence of a child. He was the patriarch of my mother’s family and a giant in my eyes. Whatever age I was, I viewed him as the wisest of the wise. Whatever he said was gospel, whatever he did or showed me how to do I believed was the best way and the right way. I watched him through my eyes as a granddaughter and later as a mother to my son, his great grandson.

He was multifaceted. He could fix anything. He spent his free time tinkering in the garage, basement or boathouse (at the cabin), making sure that every motor, or non motor operated thing he possessed worked the way it should. If you were present when something needed fixing, he would show you how and do so in a way you would feel confident enough to do it yourself the next time.

One of my grandfather’s strongest, and, in my opinion, most notable traits, was that he made it a practice to not complain. My mother shared a piece of wisdom she often heard from him if a complaint was uttered while she was growing up. He would say, “I cried because I had no shoes until I saw a man who had no feet.” This perspective taught her, and later, Ben and me, the perspective of focusing on what we did have and not what we didn’t have (or wished we did). If you complained or made negative comments about anything, he would pick apart your thoughts and make you think again about what you said. This taught us the meaning of integrity. If you didn’t have a valid reason to knock something, then you should not say it. Stand for what you believe in and mean what you say.

My grandfather wasn’t always so serious, he was also light hearted and could be a lot of fun. He owned an 8mm video recorder long before I was born and had amassed quite the collection of reel to reel films. Often times at childhood family gatherings, he would pop giant bowls of popcorn on the stove and gather us in the living room to watch his silent movies. We got to choose whether we wanted tang or lemon-aid to wash down the popcorn. He had a portable screen that weighed more than my youngest cousin. The adults would sit on the furniture and the kids on the floor. I liked being close to the projector to hear the clicking of the reels and the humming of the sound that didn’t exist. My grandparents would provide the play by play of my mother and her siblings in their growing up years. This is one of my most favorite memories.

Each time we arrived at my grandparents home for a visit, my grandfather would inspect our fingernails to make sure we weren’t biting them. If we hadn’t, we would be rewarded with a nickel and sometimes a quarter. I looked forward to earning those coins. My siblings and I would skip around the corner to a small grocery store and buy candy with our earnings. To this day I have never been a nail biter.

When I was eight years old my grandparents purchased a cabin in northern Minnesota. Many weekends were spent here. During our endless summer days outside, my grandfather taught his grandchildren to dig worms, bait a hook, catch and clean fish, row the boat, start the motor, fill the bird feeders, keep the landscape rocks free of weeds and many other essentials to enjoying and making good use of our time. Evenings always included picking a favorite movie to watch on one of the many VCR tapes he had recorded or playing dice or card games as a family. My grandfather was also an expert cribbage player and counted his hands faster than anyone. I knew I had hit the big time when I could play with him and keep up.

When he became ill and his health was compromised, he still never uttered a complaint. Not once. Because of what was happening to his body, there was no question he was uncomfortable and in pain, but he never said so. He remained sure that others still had it worse than him. The last time Ben and I saw him was a couple months before he died. He had mustered up the strength to join us at the table at the cabin. As we were leaving, and I knew it was the last time we would see him alive, he said to Ben, “come back again soon kid and we’ll go fishing.” Ben was barely thirteen. I knew this wouldn’t happen, but in that moment my grandfather gifted him a sense of hope and survival. Ben already worshiped the ground he walked on and wanted to grow up and be just like him. That final living comment would be etched in Ben’s mind and effect him in a way I would never have imagined years later.

On my grandfather’s seventy-seventh birthday he jotted down some thoughts in a small notebook. He echoed those thoughts on the same page in the three years that followed. These thoughts were shared on the memorial cards printed for his funeral. They sum up his character pretty well.

December 6, 1995, Cabin - 4:30pm

Never thought I’d ever be 77 years old. Don’t feel that old….but how are you supposed to feel at 77? Should seem like a lot of years gone by and yet when remembering them they all passed in big hurry. Have few regrets. Put them down as poor experiences to which I know I have gained from them. With no regrets I think we would lose gratification from our present living. Am fortunate in comparison to many families and friends about how well life has been good to me. Singing in the shower shows happiness or at least contentment. My happy moments certainly outnumber
my sad times by far. What is inevitable we accept as we have little choice to do otherwise. Hard to grapple with this at times, but we must look upon happier moments and times in the past that we can relive in our memories to balance out our present sorrows.

LeRoy August Rogers
Ditto for ‘96
Ditto for ‘98

As a man who honorably served our country during WWII, as a husband, father, grandfather and great grandfather, he was an inspiration, a role model, a hero, a leader, an expert, a master, a lion and remains a legend in my family. He is a luminary in my heart and in my memories. Happy 100th birthday to my grandfather!

"It is foolish and wrong to mourn the men who died. Rather we should thank God that such men lived." -George S.Patton.

I am grateful every day that he lived and will always be more because of him.