My grandfather started working in the coal mines in Iowa at an early age. In 1923, at the age of 23, he was standing, with his brother Frank, next to his father, when a large piece of slate fell and crushed his father's head. This must have been a terrific event, one that stayed with him for the rest of his life. Yet he stayed in the mines - because that's what he knew - moving to southern Illinois to work in the more active mines there.
At some point, my grandfather had a piece of coal fall on his leg. It crippled him for life. Although no one ever discussed what happened and when I do know that he had a painful open sore on his leg that never healed. I can't help thinking that medical advances would be able to take care of that now. Not only was he in constant pain, but as he grew older, he developed black lung disease.
My grandfather was always a bit cranky and cantankerous - to everyone else but me (and I assume my siblings). He always greeted me with a hug and a smile. But realizing what he went through in life makes me look at his actions a bit differently now.
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| Grandpa Mike, Grandma Florence and me about 1952 |
My grandparents had a large picture window in their house in West Frankfort Illinois. The house itself was nothing special - an inexpensive slab house, built for them by my aunt Mary's husband. But I remember the picture window.
My grandfather always had a recliner chair - and it was always placed right in front of the picture window. From there he could watch TV (he liked Lawrence Welk) and survey the comings and goings on the street. He was always sitting in that chair when we would drive up for a visit. You could always count on that. And when we pulled up, he'd announce it to my grandmother and aunt (who would have been waiting for us) and they'd come out to greet us.
I don't picture my grandfather anywhere else but sitting in his recliner (and sitting at the bar of the local Elks Club ordering me a Shirley Temple). I haven't mentioned, of course, the coffee can that he kept next to the chair as the spittoon for his "chaw". This nasty habit was what eventually killed him as he developed cancer of the tongue.
After my grandparents and my Aunt June died, we rented a truck and loaded up furniture, including the recliner, and I drove from southern Illinois to Minnesota - one of the scariest drives I've ever made. (Too big to park, having a gun waved at us on the Dan Ryan and just generally maneuvering a big truck.... something I'd never do again.)
The recliner lived at my house for a while but it never felt right in our house because it was missing my grandpa Mike.
