Those of you who know me have often heard me say that my paternal grandfather was the most important person in my life. Yesterday would've been his 100th birthday.
Edgar Brown Kimball was born on November 9, 1912 in Worcester, Massachusetts. He served in the Army during WWII. He wouldn't talk about it much, but I do know that he drove a tank in Germany and saw "awful things." He came home with a sailor girl tattooed on his forearm, which by the time I came along, was faded to a bleached denim blue color and many of the details had been blurred. It looked like a penguin to me. I loved that tattoo.
My grandfather was a carpenter and a fisherman. Growing up, I would often accompany him to job sites and, to this day, the smell of sawdust evokes Grampy. He had a fishing boat out of Cape Cod (which he named after me, his oldest grandchild) and he would fish for striped bass and trap lobsters, which he'd later sell to a fish market. He and my father belonged to a fishing club where they would compete in surf fishing on Nauset Beach. I remember his ugly green waders and how I'd lay awake in the camper listening to the men strategizing over the tide charts and a cup of coffee, always on a quest for the biggest "stripe-ahs." He and my dad didn't want to pay for a clamming permit, so he'd send Dawn and I clamming-- the Coast Guard wouldn't bust two little girls. I remember finding the breathing holes on the wet sand in Buzzards Bay, then digging with a little shovel and placing them in a metal bucket. Grampy would cook them in a broth of beer and we'd dunk them in butter on the beach. Nothing tasted finer.
Grampy was also a singer and a songwriter. He had a rich, bass-baritone voice and played the accordian and guitar. My earliest memories of childhood include sitting next to him as he sung Johnny Cash songs. He loved Johnny Cash and so do I. I knew the words to "I Walk the Line" before I could walk. He wrote his own songs, too, and taught me the words but I wasn't allowed to sing them with him because they had "swears" and my grandmother would get mad.
He also painted ceramics as a hobby-- I still have the statue of ET he made for me. One year for Christmas, we got him a hooked rug kit, which started him on yet another interest. He took great delight in calling himself a "hooker."
Another vivid memory of my grandfather is his love of sports. After eating a multi-course meal prepared by my grandmother, we'd settle in on his rust-colored tweed recliner to watch the Bruins-- in the heyday of Bobby Orr and Phil Esposito, the Celtics-- John Havlachek (sp?) and Larry Bird, the Red Sox-- Carl Yazstrzemski. Grampy also watched boxing and bowling with equal glee.
During my early teens in Pennsylvania, I played bantam hockey in Johnstown. There were no girls' leagues in the 70's, so I played with the boys. Most of my relatives were horrified and were convinced I'd get hurt. Not Grampy. He was my biggest advocate. His ice-blue eyes would twinkle when we talked about it, for he was the one who taught me how to skate on frozen ponds in Massachusetts.
He was my biggest supporter again when I entered college and decided that I wanted to further explore my passion for art. Money was tight and "wasting" tuition money on "frivolous" art classes and supplies was frowned upon. But Grampy was always there with a wink and an extra $20 or so to buy paint.
My grandfather died of lung cancer on September 7, 1985 in Auburn, MA. I felt it the moment he died. I was at home, sleeping, and in the middle of the night, I sat bolt upright in bed. I knew he was gone. A phone call from my grandmother the next morning confirmed it. He did not live to see me graduate college. Or get married. Or to continue my artistic endeavors.
I don't have very many pictures of my grandfather, but I cherish the ones I do have. His and my grandmother's wedding photo-- he called her "Babe." I was in high school before I realized her real name was Mary. A photo of him in his Army uniform that he sent to my grandmother from Germany. A picture of he and I playing pirate games with plastic swords.
I love you, Grampy. I wish we had had more time together. I wish you could see me now and how you've shaped me in so many ways. But I believe that you do see me. I think about you all the time. I still know by heart the words to every Johnny Cash song you've ever taught me. Happy birthday.
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