GRANDFATHER CLAUSE
[For the past 20 Christmases, I have written a Christmas story of some sort
in memory of a priest I was stationed with: Father John Duffy. He was a funny
and unique English professor. - whom had
taught us in the seminary. Every year he used to write a new Christmas story
and send it to his niece up near Boston.
I got to type out a few of those stories
for him - so when he died on Christmas Eve - 1993 - I
thought - writing a Christmas story would be a fitting memorial for Duff. I’ve
been doing that in place of a homily for
each Christmas ever since. So this is
Number 20: a story entitled,
“Grandfather Clause.”]
GrandPop Ralph died 5 years
ago.
At family gatherings from
time to time - the name of Ralph, Pop, Dad, GrandPop, Uncle Ralphie, Grandfather Puff - that name came
from one grandkid who had trouble pronouncing Ralph - so Ralph was “Puff “- for him - and it became a cute
family nickname always said with a smile. And the jokesters would add, “Ralphie - you always were a puff over!”
“GrandPop,” that was how his grandson
Frank began his thoughts about Ralph while driving along - alone - heading for
a business meeting - some 150 miles away - just a week before Christmas.
He was listening to his car
radio and a correspondent was talking about the “Francis Bounce” - the so
called Pope Francis effect on so many Catholics who had dropped out of Church
years ago - and came to Church at Easter or Christmas or the First Communion of
a grandkid or what have you or when have you.
Frank turned off the radio
when that report was finished and he began thinking about his grandfather, Ralph - whom he always called “GrandPop!” -
all through the years.
“The ‘Francis Bounce’ - the
‘Pope Francis Effect’” - Frank said out loud in his car. “What about my GrandPop
- what about the ‘Ralph Bounce’? What
about the bounce towardsd goodness we’re all supposed to be giving each other?”
“Yeah,” he reiterated to
himself, out loud in his car. “What about the ‘Ralph Bounce’ - how my GrandPop
had such a great impact on so many people? - way before anyone ever heard of
this new fellow on the world stage: Pope Francis?”
He thought about how his
GrandPop - after he retired - loved playing Santa Claus all through the
Christmas season: in nursing homes, schools, and at the hospital. It was one of
his many volunteer jobs - that he loved to do.
“Ho, ho, ho!” He loved giving
out gifts to kids of all sorts - old ones in nursing homes - and new ones in kindergartens. He didn’t have that much of a mid-life belly
- so as Santa Claus he loved to tap his
tummy and say to other adults: “It’s a pillow!” - or to a few of the guys:
“It’s silicone!”
After he retired - after his
hair turned whitish gray - he grew a great, real Santa Claus beard.
As he drove along Frank
thought about the half dozen or so folks who came up to him at his grandfather’s wake -
saying, “Your grandfather got me back to my church and I’m not a Catholic. He
didn’t nag me with words. He pulled me back by good example. He was extremely
generous. Many times, I saw him with his
twenty dollar bills. He’d slip them into the hands or side pockets of guys who
were stuck.”
Frank knew it was his
GrandPop who got him back to Church - after he dropped out a bit during college
and those first years of his marriage. His grandfather never said anything -
but once during a summer family reunion at a big rented beach house, he
overheard his mom talking and crying and complaining to her dad - his
grandfather - as well as God - on an
outside porch - just outside an open window to a room - where he, Frank, was taking a summer nap. They didn’t know
Frank was in there. Or if they did, his Grandfather was quite clever.
His mom was complaining about
her kids losing their faith - after all the effort - we put in - getting them
religious education - and getting them to Church every Sunday - growing up.
Frank noticed that his
GrandPop said little. He just listened and listened and listened some more.
He didn’t join in the pity
party with his daughter - but just said,
“Give them time. Give them time. Sometimes people have to arrive at that first
station of the cross - before they discover there are at least 13 more. Ha. Ha.
Surprise! Surprise! Give them time. Wait till some of their walls come
crumbling down. That’s how God gets inside some people’s castles.”
His mom became quite quiet
after that.
Frank remained even quieter
in the room he was trying to sneak that summer nap in.
In the car - still driving
along - Frank said a prayer to God our
Father and added, “Thanks GrandPop. Thanks Mom and Dad - for giving us the gift
of faith - even though we blew it at times. Thanks.”
As he drove along - those
highway roads - Frank was very silent - and he realized how often he loved
these long quiet trips - these long moments of silence - no noise, no music, no
nothing in the car - nothing but good think time.
Then he laughed and said out loud to himself, “And where did I get that
attitude from?”
He answered his own question
with his own answer, “Thanks mom. Thanks dad. Thanks grandmas. And especially,
thanks GrandPop. Thanks!”
His GrandPop, Ralph, could be
the life to the party. He could also be a great ear at a meal together - when
he, Frank, needed advice, about whether to take another job or how to deal with
a boss who was a disaster.
And then there was the time
his GrandPop gave him great advice when he Frank hit a blah boredom uggy lonely
stage in his marriage to Judith. His GrandPop
said, “Frank give your grandma and me a weekend and we’ll take your kids
for you and you take Judith for a honeymoon and tell her what you’re feeling -
and listen, listen to where she’s at - and hear her boredom with you or the
kids or what have you.”
Frank smiled at that -
remembering how that was the ticket to a new beginning - to a whole new phase in his marriage with
Judith.
He remembered giving that
same advice to a buddy - who was in the same boat that he had been in. He told
this fellow he worked with how he talked to his GrandPop and what his GrandPop told
him.
His buddy said at first, “You
talk to your grandfather? And your dad? I’ve never done that since I was a kid. That
stopped when I got into high school.”
Frank heard that - and called
his Grandfather up and took him out to Olive Gardens
- for another great meal - just the two of them. And he told his grandfather
how he gave his buddy the advice that you gave me and it’s also working for him
as well.
And he told his GrandPop that
the guy said, “You talk to your
grandfather?”
His grandfather said, “Haven’t
you ever heard of the Grandfather Clause?”
Frank hesitated when his
grandfather threw him that question. He never liked to not be in the know. So
he deflected his grandfather’s question with a: “Refresh my memory.”
So his grandfather said, “A
grandfather clause simply means - the old rules always continue to apply -
whether we know it or not. I got my ideas from my father and he got his ideas
from his father and back and back and back - fathers, grandfathers,
grandmothers, whoever. The big stuff.
The big life stuff.”
“Oh,” said Frank.
Well, once more, he thanked
his GrandPop.
And he thought while driving,
way before this pope came along, he remembers saying something like this to him:
“GrandPop, you know what, you’re my Pope - more than the pope is my pope.”
And he thought his
grandfather said - stroking his long white beard, “Ho, Ho, Ho. I rather be your
Santa Claus than your pope.”
Well, when Frank arrived at
the meeting that week before Christmas - those 150 miles felt like 15 miles. He
felt refreshed - ready for the meeting and ready for Christmas this year. And he
had a great smile on his face - and he thanked his GrandPop in prayer for being
the cause of so much joy in his life and teaching him all about the grandfather
clause: There are some old rules in life - that never run out of life. Use them
and we’ll all be giving each other a great bounce effect on how to live life to the full.
Amen.
