My grandfather celebrated his 89th birthday today.
To me he has always been 'GP', because I was born when he was in his mid-40's, which was, he said, too young to be called Grandpa.
He was born in 1922 to Merland, who worked as a foreman in a factory, and Sarah (Sadie), who was what we politely call today a 'stay-at-home mom'. In honor of his paternal grandfather, he was named Hubert Marsdon Avery. His beginnings were humble: for years their house did not have an indoor bathroom - he remembers using an outdoor privy and later helping his father to install the plumbing and bathroom inside the house. GP also remembers his mother washing clothes by hand, although the family eventually acquired a washing machine.
When GP was 19, the United States entered World War II and he enlisted in the Army Air Corps (the precursor to today's Air Force). Though he had not completed high school, he made the grade for pilot training and became a bomber pilot in Europe. Here's a picture of him from those days, wearing his wings, followed by a picture of the actual plane he flew:
Soon after returning home from the War, GP met my grandmother, Genevieve, on a blind date. After a whirlwind courtship, they married:
At the time, my great-grandparents had some misgivings about the marriage; in their eyes my grandmother had two strikes against her: she was Polish and poor. But GP and Neenie (as I called her) remained married for 56 years until Neenie passed away in 2003.
During their years together, my grandparents had many adventures: First they built a home, then moved from Connecticut to Florida in the early 1950s. GP held many different jobs - for a time he was a truck driver, then a mechanic, and years later he worked in an abstract and title office. I greatly admire the courageous decision he made in his 40s that 'The Office' life wasn't for him; he left relative financial security and started his own small business, which he operated successfully until he retired. In their last 15 or so years together, my grandparents criss-crossed the U.S. in an Airstream trailer, visiting every state - except, of course, Hawaii.
GP and Neenie also had two children. Their son Michael is my father, though he has been absent most of my life. When I was 13, my grandparents became my de facto parents, which I have written about previously here, and which I consider as their greatest gift to me.
Despite a few health scares over the years - which I've also posted about previously - GP remains independent, sharp and strong. Though he now uses hearing aids, he does not take a single prescription pill, lives on his own, and maintains his 'healthy' disdain for going to the doctor.
His continuing vigor is especially remarkable in light of his dietary habits, which are, in my
humble opinion, appalling. When I plead with him to eat more veggies and less ice cream, he shrugs and says, "I'm 89 - I'm going to eat what I want."
How do you argue with that?
I simply shrug, too, and reply (lovingly, natch) that he is a freak of nature. And that I hope I have inherited his genes.
Happy Birthday GP!
(Save some cake for me...)
