Thursday, January 5, 2012
It seems the practice to dedicate a book or writings to someone whether it is only a few pages or a voluminous tome. So, to conform, I think I should dedicate this to my grandchildren or great grandchildren in the event they should ever read it.
My children are fairly well aware of my personality and character and my wife says she can read me like a book after fifty years of marriage so I am revealing nothing new to them in these excerpts from daily living.
Therefore, jumping a generation gap, I woud like for the next two generations to draw their own conclusion from their retired grandfather's thoughts and opinions.
The fact that I have kept a pictorial history on the growth of each of you should confirm that I have always been concerned about your progression in life, and ancestral love has been pleasant because none of you have ever disappointed me. In fact, I have been guilty of infringing upon friendships in bragging about you as though I had something to do with your accomplishments.
Financially speaking, I hope I have not spoiled you or blighted your aggressiveness by setting up minor trust funds for you. I am not trying to buy your respect or love but just trying to smoothe some of the bumps in the rocky road of your life. I sort of worked this stipend out with Uncle Sam with a little over two years of special service requiring my toe nails and some finger nails. [Grandpa was an engineer in Patton's third army. He suffered frozen hands and feet during the Battle of the Bulge.]
I hope the gazebo garbage at least points out to you that I do have deep convictions underlying any attempt at facetiousness. Not just any old religion, but dependence upon one I have proved to myself to be invaluable in living daily and have every assurance of it's eternal and infinite continuance of my destiny. If I pass nothing else on to you, I hope you find this intangible gift as I have found it. I more than just think of you sitting out in the gazebo. Anything additional that is positive is just frosting on the cake.
Love always, Grandpa Russ