Today is my PopPop’s 85th birthday. My Pop was such a huge part of my life growing up. I solely attribute my love for art to my Pop. Some of my first memories are of drawing or painting with my pop, or doing an arts and crafts project with my mommom. When I was just 3, I went to a ceramic’s shop with my Mom and Pop, and painted a ceramic cat. I still have this cat, and to this day, I look at it and can’t believe a 3 year old painted it! I stayed in the lines, the colors were appropriate, almost. At the ripe old age of 3, my Pop critiqued my cat, telling me that cats don’t have pink eyes. I remember being a little upset, I thought I did a stellar job, and Pop was sure to praise me on the rest of the cat, but just wanted me to be aware that cats simply do not have pink eyes. When ever I did a new drawing, or finished a new project, the first person that I wanted to show was my Pop. I was determined to show him something that he couldn’t fine anything wrong with. He always pointed out the great aspects, but also pointed out the imperfections and places that I could improve. As a child, I would get a little upset, I remember asking my mom why Pop never liked anything I did, and I remember her telling him to stop critiquing. But if you know my Pop, he does what he wants, and he never did stop. This is one of the best things that he could have ever done for me. As a small child, maybe I didn’t understand why he would point out imperfections, but as I got older I quickly came to realize he was teaching me to do better. He never meant to be mean by telling me what I could do better, he saw potential in me, and was pushing me towards it. This is one of the best things that I believe you can do for a child. While your first instinct may be to always tell your child that what they are doing is amazing, it is so important to help them to be better. I saw this first hand when I went to art school. During critiques I saw a countless number of girls break into tears because the professor told them to change something, or that their painting simply was not that great. These were girls that obviously raised as princesses and never had anyone tell them that they could improve. It never bothered me when a professor told me to change something, I even had a professor at one point basically tell me a painting of mine was crap, walk over to it with a paintbrush and paint a huge white streak across the whole thing. After class, almost all of my classmates came to me, cursing the teacher, telling me that the painting was really good, and that they couldn’t believe the professor had the nerve to do that! But I told them, she was right. I was a little shocked that she had done that, but the painting was rushed and crap, she called me out on my bullshit. If Pop hadn’t spent so much time pushing me to see my potential, and pointing out when my work was not up to par, maybe I would have been upset, but thanks to my Pop I learned to accept criticism, and to do better.
If you know my Pop, you know what a jokester he is. I remember him coming to my house when I was growing up, dumping change out of his pockets as he walked around, telling my brother and I that he had holes in his pockets. My brother and I thought this was so hilarious, and didn’t understand why he kept wearing pants with holes in the pockets! As I got older, and a pocket full of pennies didn’t have as much appeal to me, my Pop would call me weekly and sing happy birthday just to hear me laugh. He continues his silly antics with my own children as well. The first time he met my son, his first words were “Gray!!! It’s me! The President!!”, so now, my Pop’s “great grandfather” name, is “The President”.
Pop has always had such a big personality and a spark for life. Two and a half years ago, we lost my Mommom to cancer. She was my Pop’s best friend. She had been sick with various illnesses for as long as I can remember and Pop was always such a diligent care giver for her. His whole existence was based around keeping her healthy, and happy. They drove each other crazy, and we would all laugh every time we were all together because they would bicker like nuts, but the love that they had for each other was never questionable. When she died, we worried we would lose him too. After two years of living alone, Pop decided that he wanted to move into a retirement community to be around other people. He has always been such a social person that the family had been pushing him to do it for the entire two years. He was hesitant to sell the house, it was their house, it was her house. Losing the house would be the final straw of losing her. He moved out and we saw Pop spiral very quickly downward. We were all very worried about him, his doctors said he was clearly depressed, developing dementia, and had anxiety problems. We were certain that Pop was at the end of his rope, his spark was fading. But then something happened. We are not sure what did it, maybe it was the death of his brother in law that made him realize that he was still alive and he needed to live along with his new cocktail of meds, but Pop suddenly started to gain his spark back.
In the time that we thought we were losing him, he would call my mom daily, complaining about the retirement community, the food there, the temperature of the room, but now he calls because he needs new undershirts or sweaters to impress the ladies. In 28 years I have never sean my Pop in jeans and a t-shirt, he is always dressed to impress, in nice slacks and a sweater. If you know anything about retirement communities, you know that women in general outlive their husbands, so my Pop is one of a handful of men in the community, so he has his pick of the ladies. He is suddenly a new man. When I saw him for Christmas he was wearing all new clothes, a new hearing aid, and was flirting it up with my brother’s girlfriend’s mom. We all stood around and listened to him tell stories of the beautiful women he was now living with. One story stood out, as he told it he was beaming from ear to ear. There is a woman that lives in his community. She is 90, but according to him, she is absolutely beautiful. He tells her every day that she is a beautiful woman. One day, as they were passing in the hall way, he stopped her. He said “look, I know this is going to sound crazy, your 90, I’m almost 85, but lets get married.” She stood there, not knowing how to respond, and said “Get married?? Your out of your mind.” To this he responded, “Yes, I want to get married, but I have to warn you, if we get married, I want a minimum of 5 children.” Pop is back.
Happy Birthday Mr. President.
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