I am not cool, but he was.

Yeah, there's a photo up on Dooce's site of her devoted and handsome husband, Jon, wearing a swimcap that I gave her. What the photo does not show is what a retard I was when I met her. I wanted to be cool. Really. I failed. Horribly. But I had been taking care of mentally unwell people all weekend and we all know how mentally unwell I am, so there was a reason, but still, I really, really wanted to be cool.

My grandfather died last week. He had been sick for a long, long time, and it was not a surprise to anyone, but I spent a lot of time with him when I was little, when my dad was dying. He was a quiet man. He used to take me for ice cream pretty much whenever I wanted. He had nose hairs that size a small twigs. He ate chopped raw onions with almost every meal.

I wrote his obituary yesterday. I've now written the obituaries for both of my biological grandfathers. Here is a small part of the story of George Chester:

George Chester Hall died peacefully on Thursday, March 9th. George was born in Decatur, Texas in 1922, one of six children. In 1939 he lied about his age to join his oldest brother, Howard, in the Texas National Guard. He, along with his brother, brother-in-law, and most of the 2nd Battalion, 131st Field Artillery, became prisoners of war when the Dutch surrendered the Island of Java to the Japanese in March of 1942. Save for the year he and a small group of prisoners spent lost and starving in the Burmese jungle, he was in a Japanese prison camp, first in Java, and then in Burma for 42 months. There he and the rest of his Battalion worked to build the, Burma-Siam Death Railway, made famous in the film The Bridge Over the River Kwai. After his year lost in the jungle, he returned to the prison camp. His brother was dying of Dysentery and George was to be executed for his escape, so Howard and George switched dog tags in order to save George’s life. Their parents believed it was George, and not Howard who had died in the camp until George returned to the US and called to tell them otherwise.

Back in Texas, he was admitted to a military hospital in San Antonio where he met his sister Grace’s friend, Betty Jean Campbell. They were married October 26th, 1945. Except for his long, frequent trips to the grocery store to do her bidding, they were together until Betty died in 1988 of ovarian cancer. George and Betty lost an infant son, Ricky in 1946, a son-in-law, Stephen in 1977, and another son, Robert in 1996.

George worked for GTE for over 35 years, first as the only telephone man in Carrollton, Texas when he and his family moved there in 1959, and then as a test board operator. In 1988 a co-worker of George’s learned that he had never applied for the military awards and commendations he was set to receive. On July 5th, 1988, months before his wife, Betty died, George was presented his awards, including a purple heart and five bronze stars in a surprise ceremony at his office by U.S. Rep.Dick Armey, R-Denton. Surrounded by his family, George told the Dallas Morning News that “stubbornness” had kept him going during his horrific years in the war. He was a lifelong Methodist and labor liberal Democrat, serving as a Divisional Union Steward for CWA for many years.

He is survived by his daughters, Patti*, the Reverend Doctor Georjean and her husband Doctor Mike, and Jannette; his grandchildren, Reese and Kristi, Barry and Cyndi, Mandi and Chris, Sonnet and Alex, and his devoted baby, Calei and her partner Elliott; and his great-grandchildren, Tyler, Hannah, and Madison, and Caitlin; his brother, Hugh T., and his Sister-in-Law, Christa.

* Last names removed to protect the crazy.

Comments

[Pinky]

When my dear WWII vet Grandad died, it was also no surprise. He took me for Eskimo pies whenever I wanted, and also whenever he wanted. There is something just pure sad in a Grandfather's death. I had no issues with him whatsoever, no difficult parental things, just mutual affection from start to finish. I believe I am the last person he saw, and I hope that gave him something for his long journey, to see in someone pure love. He was the sort of person who loudly expressed his disapproval of a lot of things done by a lot of people, in the family and out, and he made people crazy by just sort of chuckling when I did the sorts of things he disapproved of. I have been missing him lately, thinking of how he would greet me when I came for a visit ("You're here?") and how he would nudge me at the dinner table if he was giving someone a hard time, like "watch this, he is going to get all mad, won't that be fun?" But it isn't so painful to think of him anymore, more grateful that I had him, and happy to remember him. Lots of bad things go down in life, but a great wonderful grandfather is a big gift, even though we can't keep them as long as we'd like. I am happy for you that you had him, and sorry for your loss, and how sad it feels. Good job on the obit, there is a lot of love and honor of him there, which he surely merited, and merits.