It's a special day, 11-11-11. It's Veteran's Day 2011. It's a day to remember and go forward with the knowledge.
Today, I will be telling stories to my children about our ancestors and a few others who have served. We will be spending the day together doing a mundane task. While my children may not express it, I will overtly point out how wonderful it is to be together today. We are lucky. We are surviving. I believe this is possible, in part, because of the many veterans who have influenced me over the years.
My Grandpa Norlander married into a ready-made family; my grandma had two children, my dad and aunt. He rose to the challenges and is recognized as our brilliant patriarch. He was kind, hard-working, humble, intelligent, loving, and never raised his voice. He had to quit school when he was in the eighth grade because his dad died, yet he was the one who taught me about Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle. He read my dad's college philosophy books and passed on his passion for the subject to me. This usually occurred while he was working in his basement wood shop, a tiny room where he would make moldings and other small decorative items for his home. He went on to build his own cabin. The things I remember most about my Grandpa Smith are; sitting on his lap with his arms around me, laying in the hammock with him while he read to me or we took a nap, and tagging along with him like an obedient puppy. I adored the man. He was always kind and always made me feel special. He died when he was 50 years old from something called "exploding cancer." I have outlived him, and hope to be considered as good as he was.
My dad's dad, Palmer Ofstun, also served. He was stationed in the Pacific during WWII. His story is a tragedy. He died when my dad was nine or eleven due to injuries he sustained during the war and his alcoholism. He was a brilliant artist; I've seen the many drawings he did for his son in letters he sent while serving his country. His letters to his son and his wife (my grandma) tell a sad tale of a man who is separated from his family and knows that he's losing his wife. The stories of how much grief he caused my grandma are many, but long ago I forgave him is bad behavior; replacing any anger with sympathy for a man who couldn't survive the many bad decisions he made combined with the effect that serving had on him. His tale is a cautionary one, and I remember him fondly; knowing that he would want his heirs to do better. I try to be good for him, too.
Palmer's dad, Eric, was a brilliant great-grandpa. I made up a story when I was young that he had returned to Norway to fight with the resistance. I'm pretty sure that he didn't, but it made for some great stories; I think he might have enjoyed them. He painted beautiful pictures of his homeland. I've wondered what happened to them over the years, and have never found out. He was a kind, sweet man who had a tinge of sadness in his eyes. I loved and respected him for being kind, gentle, strong, and committed to passing on his love of Norway to me. Again, I am better for having known him even if he didn't actually fight in any war. He fought the war at home by doing what he could to make up for his son's mistakes. I know what it feels like to be in that position, now. Great-Grandpa Eric showed me the way.
My mom's dad, like my dad's dad, had a tragic life. I don't know if he served or not. I know he saw me once when I was two-years-old. He died shortly afterwards. Once upon a time I ran across a negative of him sitting in his pajamas looking so forlorn. The image is seared in my brain. The stories that I've heard are of an alcoholic, who was preyed upon by the men in his town, losing everything to gambling and drink; his wife, children, home and business. He is recognized as being intelligent and sensitive when he was sober, but he couldn't overcome his illness. It was years later when I was sitting in a UW-Madison Nutrition class that I discovered the reason behind so much of his behavior. It's one of those moments that takes on an other-earthly aura. A sentence in my book, literally, lit up, "Pernicious anemia combined with alcohol creates insanity." I highlighted it and ear-marked the page. After I rushed to my apartment, I called my mom and let her know that Grandma was right; the reason for Grandpa Tollakson's erratic behavior were because he was sick. Nobody ever realized what that he had a chemical imbalance that created the woes in his life and the lives of his family. I love the man. His life has taught me there are those who will take advantage of the weakest with no regard for the safety and sanctity of the families involved. He lived to voice his regrets, and I try to avoid his mistakes and become someone he would enjoy and be proud of.
My Grandpa Corbin married my mom's mom when he was 42-years-old, and she was a 52-year-old widow. Mom had to talk her into marrying him because of the age difference. They were married for over 35 years. I know I saw pictures of Grandpa Corbin smartly dressed in his military uniform. He was a loving, doting grandpa who could "talk your ear off and carry it down the road with him." I used to go with him in the early mornings when he set out to do a few plumbing jobs; and then, stop for coffee with his friends. We spent days together while he went from one job to the next. Every location was grand; schools, homes, farms. Schools were fun because the janitors would open up the gyms and let me play while Grandpa worked. Homes were fun because the ladies would treat Grandpa and me to some home-made treat. On the farms, I was allowed to wander in the barns and around the animals. Grandpa taught me how to fish, and we did that a lot, too. Grandpa Corbin was wholesome, loving, funny, and a rock. He died in his seventies and was imparting his wisdom right up until he decided when they should turn off his machines. He bravely faced his death and changed my mind about being hooked up to machines to extend my life. He did it so that his family could make it to the hospital to say good-bye. It was a selfless act that reminds me how much he loved all of us. My children knew him well and saw him in his last days.
Grandpa Corbin's dad was a hoot! I don't know if he was a Navy man or a Merchant Marine or both; but everyone should have at least one person in their lives like this man. He had it all; the grizzly voice, the tattoos of a ship and Hawaiian hula dancer (that he could make move by flexing his muscles), a stubbly beard, and a genuine love for Professional Wrestling and Roller Derby. Sitting on his knee watching the "Russian Bear" his old black-and-white TV and yelling for our hero to get up remains one of my greatest memories. He was absolutely endearing because he was so rough and manly, yet I knew that I melted his heart; I saw it in his eyes. Great-Grandpa Corbin taught me to enjoy the "characters" in life and to become one; lovable characters add spice to life and are just plain fun.
The grandpas I knew all had one thing in common; they never raised their voices to me. They corrected my mistakes and taught me how to improve. We cheered together. We hugged. I sat on their laps and was safe from the entire world because I knew they would protect me to their dying day. They smiled when they saw me and made me feel special. Isn't that what we all need?
So this is the most revealing bit of information that I think I've ever provided about my four grandpas and two great-grandpas. I share because I think there might be something to learn from each of them. I share because maybe it will do someone else some good, and this would make all of them happy. Six little profiles from one little life that might just make someone else feel a little less alone.
My wish for this Veteran's Day on this very special date is that we can create a world without war. I'd like this to include the wars we wage on each other when we are angry, hurt and scared; the wars politicians engage in while campaigning and politicking; the wars based on religious beliefs; and the wars we create within ourselves as we struggle through our lives.
My wish for today is World Peace. Maybe the power of November 11, 2011 (11/11/11) and a full moon will help with my wish.
Peace be with you.
Norwegian on the go
2 years ago
