The Carter Family

“I didn’t cry when granny died.
She made me so depressed;
And now I find I miss her
More than I’d ever have guessed”.


When I was a kid we lived in a small city in Michigan called Trenton. There were six of us living in this tiny house that probably had around the same square footage as the two bedroom duplex I live in now. Typical suburban city that was part of the spread of suburbia in the late fifties and early sixties.

I always try to think of the earliest time in my life I can remember and I think my first memory is of sitting on my Grandfathers lap and pretending to shave him with his set of keys as the razor. He had a little can opener that seemed to do the trick. I don’t know if anyone that was around could describe the relationship between Grampa and me without giving the bond its true justice. To say we were close would be downplaying the relationship in every sense imaginable. I remember as a very small child whenever we would visit with Grampa I would be stuck to his lap like glue. I have a slight memory of calling him Papa for a short while when everyone else was calling him Grampa. I recall one time, after calling him papa while on his lap, my sister Karen looked at me and said “His name is Grampa” and that’s what I called him from that day on.

He had seven Grandchildren and I was the youngest and I belonged to him. I remember my Grandmother telling me when I was a bit older that he told her after I was born that she had this great relationship with all the other kids and that I was his. He loved me more than one should be allowed. I can safely say that I was truly the light of his life. The really strange part was that this was accepted by all. It was known by everyone that at any function where we all got together I would be with Grampa and that was that.

We, as a family, were not what one would consider wealthy. When I was very young I think you could say we were struggling to be lower middle class. Don’t get me wrong, we never went hungry, but we were never the ones on the block to be the first to get any new product or have fancy things like some other kids. Mom would always make sure we had enough to eat and clothes on our back. One thing she could always count on without even asking was that Grampa would always take care of my needs. I remember getting winter jackets and my first new bike while with him. I also had some sort of problem with my feet and needed orthopedic shoes that were always more expensive than my brothers shoes. Again, Grampa would take me to get them. I still see him bending down and feeling the fit to make sure they weren’t too tight. There was not a single day up to about the age of 11 that I did not talk to him on the phone unless they were out of town. I have distinct memories of sitting in school on certain days and just wishing he would show up to take me out to eat or shopping and the absolute joy of seeing his car pull up from my classroom window.

As I grew older I became less and less enchanted with the attention he would shower me with. Looking back on it I know that this is a normal growing process. I started to actually feel annoyed when he would call and put out when forced to go see him. I was becoming a typical teenager and didn’t have time for him. I feel sad today knowing that he never really understood that.

When I was thirteen, like most Jewish boys, I was Bar-Mitzva. During the ceremony, as I was on the stage holding the torah, he stood up while the rabbi was leading the congregation in prayer and walked onto the stage, kissed me on the forehead and walked back down to his seat. I felt so embarrassed. Looking back now I feel ashamed to have felt that way. This occasion was his dream come true and I was too young and stupid to recognize it. Those that knew him never thought anything about the incident. They knew what it meant to him. My grandmother later told me that he always said he wanted to live long enough to see this day. Again, in my youth, I couldn’t appreciate the moment. It’s true when they say that youth is wasted on the young.

Grampa died when I was fifteen. I didn’t grieve for him at the time as I was too wrapped up in my own life as a teen that only cared about himself. I miss him dearly and often long for the days of my youth when we would always know that I was his and he was mine. Looking back I see how easy it would have been to let him know how important he was to me. I know how proud he would have been of Shelly and the kids and how he would have just lost himself in Maegan. I know he thought I could do anything and would someday rule the world and I often wonder what he would think of where I’ve ended up in life. Knowing the way he felt about me he’d probably think that this was the world I was meant to rule.

At the top of this post are lyrics from a Carly Simon song called “The Carter Family”. Whenever I hear this part of the song I always change the words in my head to Grampa and get all teary eyed. I don’t know why I do this to myself but I have it on my ipod and listen to it almost daily. Yes it brings tears but it also reminds me of a day when I felt totally secure in the love of another and even if I did wrong I would get a little tap on my head and know that all was well. I also know that he’d still tap me on the head today.