Dedicated to my Great-Grandfather John on Memorial Day

I'd like to take a moment to honor my Great grandfather John, who died before I was born.

He was born, lived and died in the same town I live in, the son of first generation immigrants to America. Worked in the family hotel carrying heavy trunks during his youth. He enlisted in World War I and returned a Lieutenant. I wish I knew the circumstances of his promotions up the ranks.

He married my great grandmother, had three children--a daughter, a son, and a second daughter who died in infancy.

As was true of many German-Americans, my grandfather showered his son with love and affection, but neglected to enforce responsibility and principle as proportionately as he lavished his love. Thus, he lived to see his much loved (and somewhat spoiled) son become irresponsible and unprincipled, a grief to his aging father.

His third daughter and oldest child had long vied for his affection. Realizing the error of his excessive devotion to his son, which had blinded him to my great-uncle's character flaws until they had become a cemented part of his character, he began assisting my grandmother, whose husband had walked out on her for another woman; leaving her with two young sons.

Great Grandfather would fix their lunches and taught them responsibility. A common phrase was "police up this room (or mess)". He also taught them discipline. My grandfather never used a stick or switch to discipline my uncle or father---his strong hands were enough for a powerful application to his grandsons' seats of understanding. My great-grand father became the father figure for my own father and uncle in their early years; both would later develop into strong men of character in part because of his teaching and discipline.

He died six years before I was born, and my father and uncle were two of his pallbearers.

Thank you, Grandfather, for all you sacrificed and for all you've done.

--Oyarsa