Richest Man In Town
When I was in college, I had to write my own children's book for a class. I wrote a book entitled _I Am Rich_. It was a predictable text that went something like "If I had a million dollars I would live in a mansion. I live in my own home that keeps me safe." I dedicated that book to my grandpa "Papa" because once when he visited I complained about not being rich. He pointed out to me that I was in fact rich because I had clothes, food and a place to live. Papa was wise enough to know that real riches aren't in the bank.
Papa was a potato farmer for most of his life. He lived in a small town in Maine. We visited him 6 weeks ago. He passed away last Wednesday.
When we were there visiting, several people stopped by to chat. We went out to Reno's Pizza with Papa once, he waved to people coming and going. Many, many people smiled and had little catch-up conversations with him. As a teenager I remember thinking that Papa must be the most popular guy in town and last month it seemed that way to me again.
I wasn't able to go to the funeral, but my mom told me that they had to set up extra chairs at the funeral home because there were so many people there. She also told me that someone said Papa didn't have an enemy in the world, which is amazing that he lived in the same place for 77 years.
It would be awesome if I could live up to the legacy. It would also be awesome if I could live the rest of my life in a community that stopped by just to chat; a community that had the decency to say hello when they are in the same room as each other; a community that looks out for each other for 77 years. Wouldn't that be amazing?
Papa was a rich man. Rich in love for others, of others. Rich in tradition and community. Rich in a sense of family and friendship. Yes, Papa was the richest man in town and he will be missed.
When I was in college, I had to write my own children's book for a class. I wrote a book entitled _I Am Rich_. It was a predictable text that went something like "If I had a million dollars I would live in a mansion. I live in my own home that keeps me safe." I dedicated that book to my grandpa "Papa" because once when he visited I complained about not being rich. He pointed out to me that I was in fact rich because I had clothes, food and a place to live. Papa was wise enough to know that real riches aren't in the bank.
Papa was a potato farmer for most of his life. He lived in a small town in Maine. We visited him 6 weeks ago. He passed away last Wednesday.
When we were there visiting, several people stopped by to chat. We went out to Reno's Pizza with Papa once, he waved to people coming and going. Many, many people smiled and had little catch-up conversations with him. As a teenager I remember thinking that Papa must be the most popular guy in town and last month it seemed that way to me again.
I wasn't able to go to the funeral, but my mom told me that they had to set up extra chairs at the funeral home because there were so many people there. She also told me that someone said Papa didn't have an enemy in the world, which is amazing that he lived in the same place for 77 years.
It would be awesome if I could live up to the legacy. It would also be awesome if I could live the rest of my life in a community that stopped by just to chat; a community that had the decency to say hello when they are in the same room as each other; a community that looks out for each other for 77 years. Wouldn't that be amazing?
Papa was a rich man. Rich in love for others, of others. Rich in tradition and community. Rich in a sense of family and friendship. Yes, Papa was the richest man in town and he will be missed.
1 Comments:
At 9:30 AM,
Kenny said…
Is "decency" really a can of worms you want to open publicly?
On another note, sorry about your grandpa, we didn't hear about his passing until your blog.
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